iGo to Dingo World
by Fictions of Legends
Summary: As an apology from the Dingo Channel, the iCarly gang has been given a free trip to Chuck Dingo World—the Most Magical Place on Earth. What could happen to them there—romance, adventure, hilarity? The answer is all of the above. SEDDIE.
1. Chapter 1

Summary: As an apology from the Dingo Channel, the iCarly gang has been given a free trip to Chuck Dingo World—the Most Magical Place on Earth. What could happen to them there—romance, adventure, hilarity? The answer is all of the above. SEDDIE.

Disclaimer: I do not own iCarly or Charles Dingo—both are owned by Dan Schneider. I only own the words on these pages and the idea of Chuck Dingo World. Also, the original title of the parody ride, "The World Ain't So Big," is property of My Life As A Teenage Robot.

iGo To Dingo World: Chapter 1

It was a summer Friday afternoon at the Shay house.

Freddie sat at the counter, coding a new game for the iCarly site's iPlay page, working in such concentration that he only used his two index fingers to type while biting his lip in thought. It looked as if one mess-up would destroy the world. It looked as if everyone depended on the correctness of this code. It looked downright ridiculous, but that was just how Freddie Benson worked. Things like this, which would probably seem rather trivial to anyone else, were important, and meant a lot to him. He was indeed a tech nerd. And he smiled at this thought. There was no denying it—except for when Sam said it.

The younger of the Shay siblings sat in the background, on the living room couch, yelling at the old Japanese lamp her brother had purchased. "Rampu!" she shouted, and the light bulb flickered to life. Smiling excitedly, she called again, "Rampu!" and the light extinguished. "Rampu!" the high-voice chanted as the process repeated.

Each time the brunette had shouted the angry Japanese pronunciation of the word "lamp," Freddie jumped in his seat, his fingers pressing a few accidental keys on the keyboard. Frantically, he rushed to the backspace button and remedied them before he lost his place in the coding. Upon the tenth time the event occurred, the tech producer turned around to face the sanest of his friends on the couch. "Why do you keep doing that?" he asked with a frown. "It just does the same thing each time."

"It's fun!" Carly giggled. She couldn't understand why Freddie didn't see the thrill of shouting like a livid Japanese man. Maybe it was just something in the Shay blood. But just to be sure, she gestured for him to join her. "Try it."

Freddie sighed, taking a stand, his hands sliding limply into his pockets. "Rampu," he said with no enthusiasm in his tone whatsoever.

The lamp remained unaffected, the bulb not even flickering. "You have to be angry," Carly nodded. "Go on—try it again."

"Rampu!" Freddie yelled, with still no emotion in his voice.

The lamp, again, refused to budge. "Angry!" Carly called in demonstration.

"Rampu!" he bellowed again, true frustration tingeing his tone this time.

But still the bulb did not light. "Angrier!!" the brunette roared just as the door to the apartment swung open.

"Rampu!" Freddie yelled back with so much strain that his voice actually cracked.

Sam stood, hand resting on the doorknob as one of her eyebrows quirked up in curiosity. "They have medication for that, you know."

The tech producer rolled his eyes as Carly laughed. "Freddie can't seem to turn on the lamp, even at his angriest and Japanese-y-est."

The blonde with a bored expression etched into her features leaned towards the piece of furniture in question. And with a dull tone to match her look, she said, "Rampu."

The light instantly activated.

Grinning, she once again stood up straight, inserted her hands into the pockets of her hoodie and strutted her way to the refrigerator.

Freddie looked to Carly in awe and the brunette simply shrugged with an apologetic glance at her neighbor.

The boy stared at Sam angrily as she nonchalantly reached into the fridge and produced a package of sliced ham, a package of sliced bologna, and a carton of orange juice. Tossing them happily onto the counter, she didn't even bother to cast Freddie or Carly a second glance.

"That's not fair!" the tech producer yelled as Sam ripped the packages of meat open.

"What's not fair, Fredhead?" Her eyes remained on the food in front of her as she gripped a slice of each of the lunchmeats and shoved them into her mouth.

"I was shouting, '_rampu_' way before you walked in here!" Freddie yelled, and unbeknownst to the two bickering sidekicks—one had their back turned to the lamp (Freddie) whilst the other's eyes and attention were currently concentrated on food (Sam)—the light bulb turned off with a click. "But the minute you walk in here and just _say_, '_rampu_'—" On went the bulb. "—It works for you? That's total chizz!"

"_Maybe_," the blonde began in a raised voice. "It's like me! Maybe the _Rampu_—" Click. "—Doesn't listen to dorks!"

"Or _maybe_ the _Rampu_—" Freddie did a mocking facial expression and hand gesture and on went the lamp again. "—Only listens to people who _naturally_ sound like angry Japanese men!"

Sam glared angrily. "_Or _maybe the _Rampu_—" Off. "—Just doesn't listen to people who sound like little girls!"

"I can say, 'rampu' ten times manlier than you!"

When the light bulb sparked to life this time, it was brighter than before. This, logically, worried Carly. "Guys," she called in a timid voice, her eyes wide with fear.

"Rampu!" Sam roared deeply—off.

"Rampu!" Freddie roared back—on.

"Rampu!" The blonde took a threatening step towards the boy—off.

"Rampu!" The boy's hands clenched into fists—on.

"Guys!" Carly yelled louder, stepping back instinctively as the bulb shined brighter.

"Rampu!" She got closer—off.

"Rampu!" He clenched his fists tighter—on.

"Rampu!" She bared her teeth—off.

"Rampu!"

And the bulb burst as Sam lunged herself at Freddie, knocking him to the ground. Carly squealed in shock, throwing herself behind the couch, peering over the back of the sofa to see the damage.

Her two best friends were currently fighting it out while shards of the light bulb lay scattered on the coffee table—the lamp smoking.

Freddie screamed shrilly. "Sam! That's illegal! That's illegal!!"

"Quit being such a baby, Bensonhurst!

"Heeeey-llo!" Spencer called happily as he skip-hopped into the room.

This seemed to break up the tension—Freddie and Sam stopped fighting, Sam gave up on Freddie with a shove and got to her feet, and Carly also stood, calmly now, behind the couch. "Hey," Carly addressed her brother, a neutral expression on her face. "I thought you were hanging out in your room."

"I was," Spencer agreed as he opened up a loaf of bread from the counter and began making himself a sandwich with the cold cuts Sam had taken out of the refrigerator earlier. "But then I heard stuff break and figured I'd say hi to Sam and Freddie."

Freddie frowned sheepishly. "Sorry, Spencer."

Sam, on the other hand, just shrugged uncaringly. "Meh," she answered unintelligibly just before guzzling the orange juice straight from the carton.

Freddie and Spencer cringed at the action. Carly, however, just smiled, this act being familiar to her. If Sam had actually just gotten herself a cup and politely poured the orange juice into it, it wouldn't have been normal. Sighing with mock disappointment, she walked to the counter and snatched the carton from her friend.

"Hey!" Sam called in protest.

Retrieving a pink mug from the cupboard, Carly—for the sake of her brother and tech producer—ceased Sam's actions by pouring the remainder of the contents of the container into the cup. "Here," she called dully while smiling as she held out the pink cup to the blonde.

She frowned. "I like the blue one better."

"This one's got piggies on it," the brunette sang, jiggling the cup gently.

Sam's eyes twinkled with delight. "Ooh, gimme," she called as she snatched the mug from her best friend's hands

Carly smiled at the reaction. She knew how Sam worked—it's just something that simply came from years and years of friendship.

The sour look that Freddie gave as he glanced downward only made Carly smile more. It was a known fact that Freddie considered Sam his close friend, and as much as he liked fighting with her, he also delighted in remedying a situation and making her happy. But lately, Carly had noticed, whenever it was someone _else_ who pleased Sam, and not him, himself, he would wear that same sour—dare she say it—jealous expression.

The brunette knew that somewhere along the line, something had changed amongst her bickering friends. She wasn't sure when it had started, but they had been willingly spending more time together, rather than being grudgingly forced to. And something just seemed different about their fights—even when they got physical, like just before. When in the beginning only a couple of years ago, a hostile air would hang around the two, there only appeared to be a light and jovial atmosphere now—as if the both were secretly having fun while taking jabs at one another.

Carly beamed. Their relationship/friendship/whatever it was reminded her of so many couples from romantic comedies that she'd seen from the past. As an old enchanted and animated teapot once sang, perhaps there was something there that wasn't there before.

"Mmm!" Sam exclaimed, the cup still at her mouth. Pulling the mug away, she snatched a small pile of papers from her pocket. "Got your mail," she said, orange juice still ringing the blonde's lips as she puckered them and attempted to lick the juice away.

Freddie watched this, a crooked smile playing at his features as he leaned on the kitchen counter. His smile grew at the silly expression on Sam's face as her eyes danced upward in concentration while she pulled her lips further inward, trying to get every last bit of nectar off of them. The tech producer made the mistake of letting loose a laugh.

Sam's eyes snapped back to him, a mischievous smirk plastered on her face. "Stuff it, Fredwad," she answered as she completed the task for him, grabbing two pieces of ham and shoving them into his mouth.

He glared at her as he chewed, but she only grinned in satisfaction.

While this was going on and Carly was shuffling through the mail in her hands after a 'thanks' to Sam, Spencer squinted his eyes in puzzlement. "Wait," he called, raising a finger. "You don't have a key to our mailbox."

Sam shrugged. "So?"

The eldest Shay opened his mouth to speak, but then decided against further questioning. He simply didn't need to know what happened to his dear friend that he visited daily, Mr. Mailbox. As long as he was okay, that was all that mattered.

"Hey," Carly said lowly in surprise as she paused on one of the letters in her hands. "There's one from the Dingo Channel!"

Spencer sputtered as the Peppy Cola he had been drinking now dribbled down his chin.

"What?" Freddie questioned in shock. "What's it say?"

"If they're asking for another Bikini Dog Food Fight," the blonde grinned. "I think we can make it happen."

The brunette practically tore the envelope open in excitement. Once the printed contents rested in her hands and she had the chance to look over the text, the web show comedian's face lit up with joy. "They're inviting us for a free stay at Chuck Dingo World in Florida!"

"Dingo World?" Sam asked in disgust. "That place is for babies!"

"Hey!" Freddie retorted, insulted at her words. "I happen to really like Dingo World."

"My point."

"Ooh!" Spencer yelled excitedly. "We have to go on 'The World Ain't So Big'!"

"And that's probably the stupidest ride there," Sam added dully.

"It doesn't matter!" shouted the artist. "It's a landmark! We _have _to go on it!"

Freddie gingerly took the envelope from Carly. After looking through it a couple of times, he lifted it high above the frantic crowd. "Hey! Problem!" he called. Once everyone silenced, he lowered the envelope, gripping it in both hands and shrugged. "They gave us tickets to the parks, but they forgot to give us plane tickets."

"That's not a problem," Carly giggled as she shook her head. "Spencer'll just drive us."

"Yeah!" Spencer granted bouncily. "Except for one thing," he added, suddenly turning serious.

"What?" the trio asked together.

"I kind of turned my car into a sculpture…"

Carly, Sam, and Freddie stared at the adult in awe, frozen in their spots—Freddie with the envelope resting limply on one of his palms, Sam with a piece of ham sticking out of her mouth, and Carly exhibiting a perfect look of terror.

"It was to help the planet!" Spencer defended.

The teens continued to stare in astonishment.

"Stop it!" the sculptor pleaded. "You're making me feel all blech!"

"You _should_ feel all blech," stated the younger Shay with a nod.

"But I was helping the planet!" Spencer tried with a frown.

"Oh the planet doesn't need _that_ much help!"

"Hey," Sam shrugged. "It's cool. I can drive you guys."

"Oh, that's right!" Carly smiled, the crisis obviously averted. "I forgot you got your driver's license."

"Yeah," Freddie shook his head. "My mom's definitely not gonna let me go."

Sam shrugged again. "Who says she has to know?"

Freddie's eyebrows pulled together as he nodded in certainty. "I'm pretty sure she'd notice if I was missing for a week!"

"Not if she was in a coma."

"Sam!" Carly shouted in outrage.

"I was just kidding!" the blonde retorted. After a moment of quiet, she added, "Sort of."

"There's just no way she's gonna let me come along," Freddie frowned.

The brunette sighed. "Freddie, you're growing up," she shrugged. "She's gonna have to let go of you, or at least loosen up sometime."

"Yeah well _you_ tell her that—she's not gonna listen to me."

A smile overtook the web comedian's face as she brushed her hair back, her hand landing casually on her hip. "I think I will." And with that, she stepped out the door and journeyed across the hall.

The tech producer shook his head hopelessly. "She's not going to say yes."

Minutes later, Carly returned. "She said yes!" she trilled happily.

"What?" Freddie gasped in surprise and excitement. "How'd you get her to change her mind?"

"I just told her exactly what I told you."

"Oh, you're the best!" Freddie called as he walked over and swooped Carly into a hug. From over Freddie's shoulder, Carly saw Sam's face lower from the scene—her eyes rolled and her mouth was stuck in a sneer of disgust and annoyance. Carly frowned as she pushed away at the very same time Freddie himself pulled away. It was quick, but she could've sworn she'd seen the ghost of her very same frown on his lips, as if he'd felt Sam's reaction. "I'm gonna go pack," he said slightly less excited as he walked to the door and left the apartment.

Sam returned to eating as if nothing had ever happened as Spencer asked, "So how did you really get her to say yes?"

Carly gave a lopsided frown and shrug as she answered, "I lied and told her that we were vacationing at a health clinic in Miami."

--

**AN: Hey-hey, guys! How ya been? Everybody chillin'? …I have no idea why I'm talking like that. Anyway! My vacation has inspired me to write this story! I'm not sure how long or short it will be, but hilarity is sure to ensue. And that's pretty much all I have to say right now! Hope you enjoyed! Stay tuned!**

**-Fictions**


	2. Chapter 2

Summary: As an apology from the Dingo Channel, the iCarly gang has been given a free trip to Chuck Dingo World—the Most Magical Place on Earth. What could happen to them there—romance, adventure, hilarity? The answer is all of the above. SEDDIE.

Disclaimer: I do not own Charles Dingo or iCarly, sadly. That right goes to Dan Schneider whom is far more awesome than I. I do, however, own these pages right here, and the idea of Chuck Dingo World…though that may obviously change if Dan Schneider decides to make Dingo World canon.

iGo To Dingo World: Chapter 2

Fate was not kind to Spencer's dear friend, Mr. Mailbox. The next day after Sam had "kindly" delivered their mail, the elder Shay discovered that day's store of letters on his front doorstep. Thinking this must just have been courtesy of the postmaster for keeping such a clean and cheerful looking mailbox all these years, Spencer simply kindly accepted this new fact with no suspicion whatsoever. So, he took a break from visiting Mr. Mailbox.

He did, however, grow suspicious when a letter from said postmaster was taped to his door a day after stating that he should "really consider repairing his letter box."

Curiously, Spencer journeyed down to the lobby. Now, he was concerned. He was _so _concerned, in fact, that he was able to drown out both Lewbert's shrill screams, and one of Chuck's deadly piercing glares as he raced to where the pillar-boxes lay.

Once there, he looked to the Shay's 8-C letterbox, and found nothing.

No, literally, he found nothing. Where his old friend Mr. Mailbox used to wait every day for him rested a gaping hole of emptiness. Which is exactly what Spencer's mouth became as he stared at the spot, awestruck.

Just then, the blonde culprit entered Bushwell Plaza, blissfully unaware of the silent shock happening just feet away from her.

The only thing to bring Spencer out of his trance was a shrill cry from Lewbert. "COOTIES IN MY LOBBY! NEEEEEYAAAH!"

The elder Shay sibling turned to the girl, mouth still a gaping black hole, but eyes narrowed in anger and disappointment.

Even though she had not been facing him at the time, as if the glance bore through her very soul, Sam turned to face Spencer, a look of shock of her own on her face. "Dude, what's up?"

"What did you _do_?!" cried Spencer in near hysterics.

Sam raised a curious eyebrow and gave a half-tilt of her head. "You're gonna have to be more specific than that, Spence."

"With the mailbox!"

"More specific," she said, leaning on her left hip while crossing her arms over her chest.

"_Our_ mailbox!" the artist yelled, not a hint of sanity left in his tone.

"Oh."

Spencer's face turned even more incredulous and frantic. "How many other mailboxes do you defile?"

Sam shrugged lightly. "Tons."

The sculptor gasped heavily.

"Relax," commanded the blonde. "I usually just stick a cherry bomb in 'em and let 'em blow."

Spencer's mouth seemed to open even wider in horror as he pressed up against the wall, clinging to the spot where his old "friend" once called home, protectively. "Monster," he hissed.

"Oh, calm down," Sam said with a roll of her eyes.

"Why did you break our mailbox?" questioned Spencer, voice still far too high to sound rational or reasonable.

"It was blocking the mail," shrugged the present co-host of iCarly.

The older of the Shay siblings just stared in silent shock at his sister's best friend. Sam had done some insane things, and it was never out of the question that she would do anything like this. Still, he found it alarming.

Sam's eyebrows suddenly lowered, as she was obviously offended. "I didn't have to go out of my way to get your mail for you, you know."

"That's right!" Spencer called, an insane, humorless smile lighting his features as he made a few exaggerated movements. "You didn't! So _why_ did you?!"

"I was _trying_ to be nice!" Sam yelled. After a moment of tense silence, she sighed and gave another roll of her eyes. Spencer obviously was going to remain unreasonable today, so, it was clear, she'd have to budge this time to make things right—or at least right in the eyes of her second family. "Look, if it makes you feel better, the mailbox will be back before we leave for Florida."

More exaggerated movements. "How can you know that?!"

"I just do, okay?" she shouted, angered once more. "Now quit buggin' me or things are gonna stay the way they are!"

And with that, Sam exited up through to the elevator to visit Carly.

Spencer turned back to the letter-drop, and just after exhaling a huff of air, gave a loud scream of frustration.

"NO EMOTIONAL CONFLICT IN MY LOBBY, GRAAAGH!"

So after an event like that, one could imagine Spencer's delight when he arrived downstairs the day the group of friends was about to embark on their vacation to a completely repaired postbox. "Mr. Mailbox!" Spencer exclaimed giddily as he ran to the box and pressed his cheek against it affectionately.

"Yeah, yeah," Sam muttered, her bored eyes facing away from the scene as she swung her key ring around her finger. "Let's just get ready to go, okay?"

The blonde had not been in the mood for praise. As it was, it was 4:30 in the morning, and Sam Puckett was not a morning person.

In fact, it was an oddity that she was even awake at all at this time. And the only reason for that was because Carly decided to spend the night, for a change, at Sam's house, so that she would be able to make sure personally that her best friend upheld her responsibilities. Carly stood at the blonde's right side, beaming at the success of her plan. With the younger Shay's careful preparation, the whole vacation was sure to go off without a hitch.

"Hey." But then there was that little detail that always made things a bit unpredictable. Freddie was, after all, also going to be on this trip. It was almost impossible to tell what Sam would do when Freddie was present, and vice versa. The two just seemed to be all for surprising each other. Or trying to, at least. Truth be told, they rather surprised the people around them much more than each other with the choices they made when both were in attendance. "So," the tech producer raised a curious eyebrow. "Before I left, my mom told me to remember to get checked out every day. And call me crazy, but I don't think she was talking about by girls."

Carly laughed nervously from her position, letting her head lower to the side, her hair falling in front of her face, and her hand raising to further shield herself from her neighbor's scrutinizing gaze.

Sam shrugged. "Okay, you're crazy." Freddie's face—which now wore an all too familiar Sam-induced glare—immediately shot to the blonde. "And duh she didn't mean by girls. I mean, your mom's a nut job, but I don't think even she's _that_ delusional."

"Girls _do _check me out, Sam," he retorted. Freddie, unlike Sam, _was _a morning person. But you wouldn't guess that in this particular instance.

"On what planet?" scoffed the crude web comedian.

His glare grew tighter. "Earth," he answered darkly. "And on what planet do the male versions of whatever species you're from check _you_ out?"

"First of all, that was the worst comeback I've ever heard," Sam replied simply as she shook her head. "Second, if you wanted to ride to Florida tied to the roof of the car, why didn't you just ask, Freddoof?"

Growling, Freddie rolled his eyes and returned his attention to Carly—he had been much more likely to get answers out of her rather than an arrogant and irritable blonde someone. "So, do you know anything about this?"

Carly's head snapped up, a nervous look painted across her face. "What? Me? No," she answered hurriedly as her eyes darted wildly around the lobby. "I don't know anything at all. Except for the fact that in some states, it's actually illegal to go skydiving with your pet moose. Did you know that?"

The tech producer's glance switched to one that was very reminiscent of Sam's—bored, and impatient. "No," was the only answer he gave, and it was delivered in a harsh tone. It was obvious that his first fight of the day—which Sam made perfectly clear he had lost—had left him in a bad mood.

The brunette frowned. "Not too subtle, huh?"

"Psh," Spencer exclaimed from where he still stood—still slumped over with his cheek resting against the pillar-box. "Even Mr. Mailbox knows something is up. And he's inanimate," he said as he straightened, patting the box warmly on its surface. And then a look of pain took over his features. "Ah! Backache! Backache!"

"Carly," called Freddie, his tone much more subdued and understanding now. "Do you know anything about what's going on?" It wasn't just his tone that was softer, but his face as well. His eyebrows were arched, pleading. And even though Carly felt no romantic connection with their technical producer, she still couldn't lie to that face. Her number one weakness was puppy dog eyes. She couldn't deny them when anyone cast them upon her. God forbid she ever had children—they would have the incentive to walk all over her, the poor girl.

The brunette's face melted into a frown before she snapped her eyes shut tight and spit out, "I lied to her and told her we were going to a stupid health clinic in Miami, okay?"

Freddie gasped in horror, almost mirroring the face Spencer first made upon seeing Sam once discovering his mailbox was broken.

"No, no!" Carly shouted, hands flying out in front of her face as she frantically shook her head. "It's okay! She doesn't know!"

"She will now," Sam chimed in from the corner where she was leaning on the lobby wall. Her eyes were concentrated on the nail she was picking on her left hand. "Lady has ears like a bat."

"Oh god, Carly, she's right!" yelled Freddie, whipping around to face the stairs in panic.

"Calm down!" the web star called pleadingly. "She can't hear us from all the way up on the eighth floor—I'd bet a million bucks on it."

A shrill, neurotic shout suddenly rang through the stairwell—"Freddie!"

"Looks like you owe someone a million bucks," stated Sam apathetically, her eyes still on the nail. They narrowed and she stuck her tongue out in determination as she completed whatever task she was attempting to do with her cuticle.

Freddie's eyes were glued to the stairs, his chest heaving with fright. They were all about to face the wrath of a lied to Mrs. Benson, and no one knew quite as well as the younger occupant of 8-D just how dreadful and fearsome that was.

Carly spun to her older brother, the strength of her voice causing her to lurch forward as she spoke hurriedly. "Spencer, what are we gonna do?!"

Spencer, who was surprisingly calm, simply answered, "Run around and scream for cake?"

"Cake?" Carly asked, straightening with a confused shake of her head. "Why cake?"

Her older brother scoffed. "Why _not_ cake?"

"Freddie Benson!" called the echoing, psychotic voice once more, sounding closer than before.

"She's coming after us—we're doomed!" shouted Freddie. "The only thing we have working for us is that I think she's taking the stairs!"

"And we're doing a great job of avoiding said doom by just standing here and talking about it," replied Sam, dully.

The tech producer turned sharply toward Sam, eyes now full of anger as he yelled, "Well what do _you_ suggest we do?"

"Uh," began the blonde with a roll of her eyes. "Maybe go out to the car and get a move on it?"

A silence lingered for a moment as Freddie tried to come up with a way that he could fire back against Sam. Alas, he found none but to pitifully shriek, "You think you're _so_ smart, don't you, Sam?"

Her bored expression morphed into a matching one of lividness as she pushed herself off the wall. "Actually, I do, porcupine head."

"Porcupine head?" Freddie asked, taken aback, voice littered with puzzlement.

"No time for fighting, let's go!" Carly yelled, pulling her two sidekicks by the hands and out the door.

Spencer lingered in the lobby, looking around awkwardly for something to occupy his time with. His expression clearly spoke, "Ho-hum."

That is, until Carly marched back into the building and yanked him, too, out by the hand. "You, too," she mumbled.

"Oh yeah!"

Once outside, decisions had to be made. Important decisions, like where one was to sit in Sam's sports car. The little automobile was red and built for speed. It was also brand new. No one bothered questioning where the web comedian had obtained the money to buy such a vehicle. It was a unanimous truth that it was better to just not ask.

"So, how are we gonna decide who's gonna sit in the front with _that_?" asked Freddie in reference of Sam, still more than a little frantic.

"Well, we already decided that you'd be sitting on the roof," replied the blonde.

Freddie shot her a glare as Spencer continued his original thought. "Rock, Paper, Scissors like usual?"

"No," Carly shook her head as she slid back into her normal smile, the fresh air doing wonders for her nerves. "I'm sitting up front with Sam voluntarily."

The technical producer shrugged limply. "Your funeral."

"You're annoying," chimed Sam.

"That insult's not even right!" yelled Freddie, his eyes snapping back to Sam. "I was using a different spelling of 'your' than you did!"

"You see?" asked the blonde. "Only annoying people complain about stuff like that." Sam stepped in the car, knowing she'd once again backed Freddie into a corner. He had nothing to respond with. Well, in truth, perhaps he did, but nothing she couldn't throw right back in his face. She was, at least, confident of that.

Everyone else entered the automobile and took their seats, aside from Freddie, who hesitantly entered a second later, seeing Sam's smirk reflected back at him in her rear-view mirror. With a sigh, he let loose a smile and slumped back, buckling himself in. Sam's grin was just contagious, even if it did often mean some form of pain for him.

And as his seatbelt clicked, the doors of Bushwell Plaza burst open wide. "Fredward!!" screamed Marissa Benson at the top of her lungs, looking like an angered cheetah about to pounce.

It was now that Spencer Shay chose to panic. "Drive, drive!!" he shouted to Sam from the backseat; Sam who was carefully, cautiously, and _slowly_ adjusting her rear-view mirror. "For the love of God, DRIVE!"

Freddie screamed as he shut the door and locked it, his mother stomping her way furiously toward the car. Her shouting was even audible through the thick windows of Sam's vehicle. "You get out of that car this instant, mister, or so help me—!"

"We're gonna die, we're gonna die!" the tech producer shouted in tearless sobs as he held onto the door handle for dear life, apparently thinking that not even the standard car locks were enough to keep his insane, overprotective mother out.

"Will you people shut up?" Sam yelled, looking angrily to the males in the back of the car. "I am _trying_ to take the proper precautions!" And then she promptly returned her attention to her mirror and dashboard.

Mrs. Benson's eyes were blazing with fury and her teeth were bared and on edge as she shrieked wordlessly and smacked almost robotically on the window.

"Sam, please!" sobbed Freddie after he gave a frightened shriek. His life was currently flashing before his eyes as he faced the woman who raised him and made appearances in many of the sporadic memories he now saw.

"Crazy yeti's gonna smudge my glass!" growled the foolishly brave Sam Puckett.

"Sam!" Carly yelled, disapprovingly with fear.

Spencer's fright was momentarily averted as he questioned, "Did she just call your mom a yeti?"

Marissa Benson's flaming bright eyes now turned their focus to the blonde in the front seat as she let forth a shrill—but terrifying all the same—roar.

"Step on it!" commanded the brunette passenger through hysterics.

And then, finally, the car took off at an illegal 80 miles per hour.

"It doesn't matter," whimpered Freddie. "She'll follow us."

"Relax," ordered a somehow still calm Sam from behind the wheel of the zooming red car. "She doesn't know where we're really going."

"And that's what scares me even more!" yelled the young resident of 8-D. "She'll track us, and find us, and then she'll kill me!"

"So?" asked the courageous blonde.

He glared. "_And _she'll kill you, too!"

This only warranted a scoff from Sam's lips.

"Yeah, and that chip in your head's only gonna make finding us all the more easier," Spencer added from next to Freddie.

At this, Carly and Freddie—Sam was apparently not surprised by this fact—turned to face the elder Shay incredulously.

"What?" asked the sculptor unaware of severity of the words he had just spoken as his eyes darted from his neighbor's face to that of his sister's. Finally, he remembered a crucial bit of information. "Oh! That's right, you weren't supposed to know about that!" he called as he laughed, whether out of ignorance or nervousness even he wasn't sure. "Whoopsie," Spencer said, giving an exaggerated shrug.

--

**AN: And there we have Chapter 2 of the story! I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! And I want to thank PandaHallows and AwkwardSquirrel for promoting my fic on twitter and being just all-around sweethearts! Seriously, you guys, you've said some of the nicest things I've ever heard –ever- to me XD So thank you! And thank you as well to all who have read and reviewed and put this story on their Story Alert list! I really am grateful for it!**

**-Fictions**


	3. Chapter 3

Summary: As an apology from the Dingo Channel, the iCarly gang has been given a free trip to Chuck Dingo World—the Most Magical Place on Earth. What could happen to them there—romance, adventure, hilarity? The answer is all of the above. SEDDIE.

Disclaimer: Yeah, yeah, I don't own Charles Dingo or iCarly. Both belong to Dan Schneider.

iGo to Dingo World: Chapter 3

Road Rage did not sit well with one Miss Puckett.

They had only been on the highway for about an hour and already Sam was muttering and swearing under her breath and snarling every couple of seconds.

The brunette in the passenger seat was quickly growing anxious as she held on to the dashboard to further brace herself to the vehicle.

Said car, whom some people might actually pity at this point continuously sharply swerved from lane to lane, causing its tires to screech almost every time.

"Sam," Carly began shakily as she lurched with the car's motions. "Why do you keep doing that?"

The blonde's eyes were tight with anger as they shifted concentration from rearview mirror to road. She was slumped forward, leaning all her weight into her steering wheel and pedals. It was miraculous that the police hadn't stopped them, but miraculous things tended to happen when Sam was present. They weren't always good, but today it just seemed that luck was on her side. "Jerk keeps trying to cut in front of me," she growled.

Carly's face would normally have transfigured into a pure look of shock, but she was still far too afraid to fully give up on fear. So her expression only acquired a few attributes of surprise. "Then just let him pass!"

Sam's eyes met Carly's only for a second, filled with outrage. They again darted back to the road. "No!"

"Why not?!"

"Because!" yelled Sam. "He got onto the highway after I did. It's not my fault he got on too late. Now he's gonna suffer because of it."

This prompted Spencer to yell—for some reason, that is, considering he was right in ear's length of Sam—"Do you do this stuff because you're bored?!"

Carly took to looking out her window, her hands now gripping the pane for further support. "Those cars just passed you, you're not stopping them!"

Sam scoffed, still eying the road intensely. "They weren't looking at me funny."

"Cars can't look at you funny!"

"Well, actually," began the sculptor with a laugh. "Socko's uncle Otto has this one car that—"

"Just let him pass!" Carly interrupted.

Spencer sat back, crossing his arms over his chest and pouting. "Fine, we'll just listen to your arguing instead."

"No!"

"Why?!"

"Because mama plays to win."

This would've normally been the perfect spot for Freddie to step in as he normally did with some snide comment to counter Sam's. In fact, there were a lot of instances during the previous conversation where Freddie would've normally done so. But no, currently the tech producer's frightened, seemingly lifeless eyes rested only on his palms as he breathed shaky breaths.

"Hey," addressed Spencer to the younger boy. "It's not your hands that have the chip in them—it's your head!" he laughed.

Freddie's gaze slowly turned to Spencer's, his eyes still frozen in shock, but ringed slightly in sadness. "How can you laugh at this?" he asked, voice creaking.

"Hey, no!" called the artist. "It's cool! You're like a robot or something! You're like the Terminator!" The teen looked no more happy than he did before this was stated. "I'll be back," Spencer said, putting on a serious face to quote the classic character from the classic movie just before laughing again.

Freddie's face was still stuck in horror.

Spencer just nudged him lightly. "All we gotta do now is just get you a leather jacket. Man, the girls will _love_ that!"

"I can't think about girls right now!"

"Psh," the older Shay sibling scoffed. "When _can't_ you think about girls?"

There was a slight pause before Freddie let his head bounce from side to side and then nodded. "Alright, good point."

The blonde girl scoffed her eyes set into a glare. For some reason, any sign that Freddie was indeed a boy—such as mentioning thinking about nameless girls—seemed to set her off. She wasn't sure of the cause of this reaction, but merely accepted it and rolled with it. The brunette that sat next to her, however, was perhaps even the slightest bit wiser on this point. "Please," she muttered sarcastically.

Carly smiled as the car seemed to right itself into the proper lane as Sam's aggression fled to a different target—one that was seated in the back of the car. Perhaps, in a way, it was helpful having Freddie along in moments such as this one.

"Well, because you asked so nicely, Sam," began Freddie harshly, his eyes narrowed as he stared at the back of Sam's head which rested in front of him. "What?"

Sam's eyes rolled habitually as she fought off the urge to turn around and cast a glare at the teenager in the back seat. Though there was no doubting she was reckless and a speed demon, there was also no doubting that Sam was actually a moderately good driver. She knew what to do and what not to do from behind the wheel. Of course, just because she was aware of these things did not mean that you would never see Sam Puckett drive by whilst eating a cheeseburger with both of her hands. That was why the blonde was only moderate—she knew all the rules, but simply chose not to follow them in certain instances. "Don't get your electronic signals in a bunch, Robo Boy."

Freddie's glare tightened but he kept quiet. Though he, too, knew Sam was a good driver, he was also smart enough to know that one didn't twice tempt her to hit them while she rested behind the wheel of a car. It was far better to just let things run their course this time.

She gestured with a nod as if he were standing in front of her. "You think a leather jacket's gonna make up for the rest of you?"

Carly, who had been relaxing peacefully with eyes closed and a smile painted across her features, quickly snapped up, alert. This conversation was going into bad territory—it was stomping its way onto thin ice. And the brunette quietly prayed that Freddie wouldn't respond to the taunt.

"What do you mean?" asked Freddie darkly.

The younger Shay sibling quickly spun around to face the back seat and threw a desperate glance at her brother—a glance that pleaded, "Make them stop before it gets worse."

But Spencer was too occupied practicing a trick he had learned from one of Socko's cousins—Madge, the Magician—in which one appeared to disconnect his or her own thumb. He beamed at his success with the trick and repeated it over and over again, blissfully ignorant of the war that was about to break out.

Carly slumped hopelessly back in her seat as she let out an agonized and exasperated sigh. Her eyes drifted to the roof of the car as her hands made their way to grip tightly onto her seat in provision of anything that was expected to happen.

"You need me to draw you a picture, Frednerd?" Sam asked crudely. "Are you really that dense?"

"I _would_ ask you to draw me a picture—" yelled Freddie who lurched forward almost every time he emphasized a word. "—_If _you _could_ draw!"

"I drew that picture of you getting attacked by a tiger pretty darn well, Benson!" shouted Sam in return, even glancing to the back of the car this time.

Carly's eyes flashed with fear. This was escalating quickly, and as it did, circumstances started to become more and more worrisome. When the brunette cast a brief look at the speedometer, she became aware that they were traveling just over 92 miles per hour, but the little needle on the dashboard was still steadily climbing.

"That picture was mediocre at best!"

The passive brown-haired girl gave an exaggerated questioning look as her hands flailed in the air in confusion. When had this argument become about art? What did that have to do with anything? Were they just fighting for the sake of fighting? Carly often found Sam and Freddie's antics and arguing to be entertaining and even cute at times, but really, this was just ridiculous.

Then another thought dawned on her—why hadn't she seen this coming? Why hadn't she predicted that there'd be complications like this?

"Really?" asked Sam rhetorically.

But before she had the chance to continue, Freddie called back, "Yeah!"

"Really?" she questioned louder through bared teeth as she glanced back, letting loose of the wheel for a moment, the car swerving before she regained control. A vehicle behind the group squealed in protest just before it zoomed around Sam's car, its horn honking angrily. "I bet you wouldn't say that if you saw the new picture I'm planning on drawing!"

"Oh yeah?" asked the technical producer challengingly.

"Yeah, I'm gonna draw it on your face with my fist!" Sam called, the car swerving again, purposely this time. "I'll call it, "Punching a Dork.""

They'd just reached 98 miles per hour, according to the speedometer. "You know what, Sam?!"

"QUIET!" Carly yelled, finally hitting her breaking point. "We are _not_ going to get into a car accident because of a stupid argument about _God knows what_!"

Sam frowned, the car slowing. "Carly, we're not—"

"Shh!"

Now it was Freddie's turn to try. "But Carly—"

"Shh!"

"I did it!" exclaimed Spencer happily, displaying his "disconnected" thumb.

"_I said shh_." At that, Carly turned to look at the car's inhabitants, casting every one of them a venomous glare. "Now, Sam, keep your eyes on the road. Freddie, stop fighting or you _will_ be tied to the roof of the car."

"_She's_ the one who started it!" Freddie shouted, gesturing to Sam. The speedometer began to climb again. "She's always the one who starts it!"

"Freddie, if you keep it up, I will tie you up there _myself_!" roared the brunette. Silence. The speedometer again began its decent—they were suddenly right back to a still illegal, but comfortable, 75 miles per hour. It was the lowest speed they had gone the entire trip thus far. "I don't care who started it, I am finishing it."

"Yes mother," groaned Freddie with a roll of his eyes.

Sam smirked at this. Forcing false annoyance into her tone, she tried to cover up her amusement. "Sheesh, Carls, why ya gotta be so bossy?"

Carly sighed as she lay back against the upholstery. She was the only one who had seen Sam's smirk, and she was the only one who saw Freddie's smile after Sam's mocking statement had been given. The brunette grinned as she let her eyes drift closed, allowing herself to relax for at least this serene portion of the car ride. How long would it take her friends to figure out what she herself already knew?

As Carly napped peacefully, normalcy took hold of the car—Spencer went on improving random and one might even say trivial skills whilst also completing nonsensical and strange tasks. And Sam and Freddie, of course, bickered, though nothing amounting to the intensity of their last argument. Freddie let Sam win every fight she put up so as to not disturb the sleeping Carly as well as endanger the lives of everyone within the red slightly cramped sports vehicle.

During the silences, everyone had their own ponderings, while the brunette mother-like figure was still away in dreamland. Sam wondered if the food in Florida would be just as good or better than that of which they ate in Seattle. It better be, she thought, what with the money it cost them to stay there. But then she remembered that the vacation had been a gift and her expectations were momentarily off-put. That is, until she switched to the rationalization that she was still paying for gas money—she was still paying for _something_, so it'd better be worth it,

Spencer pondered what his next sculpture would be of and would be made out of. For some odd reason that no one could really explain, his mind stumbled upon blue cheese. But he wasn't sure if his sculpture was to be _of_ blue cheese, or just _made of_ blue cheese. These were pivotal details that he would have to work out. Luckily, they still had days left on the road in which he would be left to think about this, give or take the time it would take Sam and Freddie to argue and disrupt his thoughts.

Freddie, however, was thinking about slightly more important things. He thought about the chip that he now knew rested in his brain. He was well past the horror that his mother would do such a thing to him, her only son, and chocked it up to the true reason behind her actions—she was simply overbearing and overprotective. For some reason, the technical producer easily accepted the idea.

No, what he had been thinking about was how to throw his mother off his trail, so that he and his friends could remain uncaught by the terrifying Mrs. Benson. The thought of brain surgery to get the chip removed made the boy shudder. But then, an idea floated to the mounding pile of images in his mind—if he couldn't remove the chip, he would just have to make another.

And what would he do with it, another part of his brain seemed to question. Would he capture some poor tourist and implant the device into _their_ brain, as was done to him as a child? He frowned. No, and why was he having thoughts like this? They made him out to be some sort of mad scientist. Silently, he glared to the front of the car where he knew such morbid thoughts had to have been radiating from. With a roll of his eyes, he kicked the driver's seat with no intention of really starting any sort of fight.

No fight was started, as Freddie wished. It was over too fast for anything to come of it. After the kick was delivered to her chair, Sam leaned back, eyes never straying from the road, and she punched him hard on the inside of his upper-arm.

After the quick confrontation, both their minds were swept back to their previous trains of thought. He wouldn't have to implant the chip inside someone else's brain, thought Freddie as his eyes rolled again, the idea now sounding completely ludicrous. All he would have to do is toss the chip into someone's bag or anything else that would cause it to move enough that it would throw his mother off their trail. He knew how his mother would think. If she saw that Freddie was supposedly in two places at once, she's immediately panic, thinking the device was faulty and give up on it. Of course, she'd then think of a new way in which to find her son, but that would be enough to at least buy them a couple of days time. Freddie grinned at his genius for thinking up such a plan. His eyes unconsciously lifted to Sam's rearview mirror.

She must've been looking back at him, because as soon as their eyes met, hers rolled. Her look transfigured into her normal, bored expression that she wore usually when delivering what she playfully called "Freddie Pessimism."

"It's not going to work, Benson," her gaze seemed to say. And Freddie, much to his displeasure, found himself agreeing with the blonde's wordless statement. How was he to build such a chip? He was sure that if he tried hard enough, he would find the proper equipment that he would need, but that was hardly the issue—the issue was time. Would he have enough of said element to be able to dish out his master plan? The answer was uncertain. And that was why Fredward Benson retrieved a pencil and paper from the bag at his side and began working out the beginning details of said plan.

Spencer had, too, dozed off into slumber at the point Sam decided to comment on Freddie's behavior. "Oh what the heck, Dipwad?" she asked, a scoff never fully making its way out of her throat. "Your nerdiness even transcends the sanctum of my car?"

The tech producer glared as his eyes lifted from the page. "Do you know what "transcends" even means?"

"Do you know what "shut your face" means?" she bit back.

So, Freddie returned to his work on the page in front of him. He was just at the point where he figured out that he had to use his laptop to make a copy of the signal the chip in his brain was giving off in order to be able to create a new one of the same frequency.

Sam frowned. Casting fleeting glances at her other sleeping carmates, she asked, "What's up, Benson?"

Freddie's face rose to her mirror once more, even though her eyes were on the road and not him. His eyebrows arched as he gave a shake of his head. "What do you mean?"

"You just quiet up, just like that?" asked Sam, sounding strangely hurt.

"You told me to," the tech producer answered in confusion. He wasn't sure just what Sam was expecting from him.

"Yeah, but you're not supposed to just _do it_." She said it as if it were obvious as the frown she wore deepened. "Fight back, Freddie." The fact that she used his actual preferred name instead of an insulting nickname was surprising enough. But Freddie still didn't understand fully what was going on.

"Why do you want me to fight with you?" he asked with another shake of his head. Did she get the same adrenaline rush he did whenever they argued? Did she feel more alive during one of their spats than she did at any other point in her life, like he did?

But Sam didn't answer. Oh, she did hear him. She just wasn't exactly sure of the answer herself. Why did she want him to fight with her? Freddie wasn't completely out of the clear, though. She knew that if she were the one who had posed this question to him—had the opportunity ever presented itself—that he would be just as blank as her. No, blank wasn't the right word. She had reasons, just none she could put to words. So it was more like a rainbow being refracted through a prism and _turned_ blank. It was the medium for which to express herself that left her empty, not the question asked.

It was dark by the time that Carly woke up. She didn't verbally question the silence that floated through the car, but inwardly she wondered what she had missed with what she thought was merely a short nap. The quiet wasn't uncomfortable, but it wasn't warm and cheerful either. There were truly no words to describe it. What had transpired in the time of the sun's setting that would cause this sort of atmosphere to form, she wondered.

Sighing, she leaned her head upon her elbow on the windowsill and gazed out the window. For some odd reason she found herself not wanting to disrupt the silence of the car. If anything, she knew it would clear by morning. But some time into her daydreaming and stargazing, the brunette heard a yawn come from the seat next to her. If Sam had had some sugar in her, she was sure to be able to stay awake all night. But that would have required stopping for more than thirty seconds in order to take out her luggage and retrieve a package of fatcakes. Sam had stated the night before the trip that no stops were to be made that were over thirty seconds long, unless they were bathroom breaks—and the problem couldn't simply be remedied with a jar—or gas fill-ups.

The blonde had claimed to want to get the trip over with and out of the way with as soon as possible. But Carly knew that deep down that Sam was just as excited to be going to Dingo World as she was. When they'd met, after bonding over the tuna sandwich, they'd gotten to talk. Carly had mentioned then that she'd always wanted to visit Chuck Dingo World in Florida, but her father just didn't have the time to take her and her older brother. Sam said that she'd been asking her parents to go, too, but they'd always tell her that they either didn't have enough money, or they were going to go the next year—which never happened. Sam then added that the whole thing was stupid and she didn't care anyway.

Carly smiled at her best friend, who shot her a confused raise of her left eyebrow. "What?" she asked.

"Pull over," ordered Carly lightly. "Spencer's gonna take the wheel."

"Who-what?!" yelled Spencer as he jolted awake. The shriek caused Freddie to jump as well, his pencil gliding over the page and making a frightened squiggle over his writing.

Freddie groaned and tried to erase his erratic written outburst. He had to try his hardest to salvage this piece of paper. It wasn't as if, if he messed up, he could angrily hand the paper to the one at fault and say, "You do it, then!" The technical producer didn't like to speak about himself, but truly, no one knew about this kind of subject as he did.

"Well, where am I gonna go?" asked Sam.

"To the back," gestured Carly with a nod. "With Freddie. Where you're _not_ going to kill each other, and where you _are_ going to sleep."

The car screeched to an abrupt stop, everything threatening to jump from the blonde's being at that moment—_everything_. Thank goodness the driver behind the group was apparently on-guard, because he or she was the only thing that prevented what could have been a horrible pile-up. "Sleep with Freddie?!" shouted Sam, sounding more like a tortured predatory bird than a human.

The sound of ripping paper also cut through the night. Freddie's eyes stayed wide from shock, as he wasn't even able to comprehend that he'd just stabbed through his precious plans with his writing utensil.

Carly was so frozen in fear from their near-accident that she couldn't even speak to reprimand Sam for her actions. A new quiet filled the car, one thick with a multitude of emotions ranging from fear all the way to embarrassment.

The silence was broken by Spencer who laughed hysterically, causing every face in the car—which had pulled over by this point—to turn to him. His finger swished from Sam to Freddie. "You two are such perverts!"

--

**AN: Chapter 3 down! I really hope you loved this look at the gang's in-car shenanigans XD Oh! For those who mentioned it last chapter, the mailbox Spencer returns to the day of the group's departure IS the SAME Mr. Mailbox. Seriously, Sam was able to completely fix it. We just don't know how. Best not to ask, you know. But yes! Thank you so much for all your support, all of you! I am eternally grateful!**

**-Fictions**


	4. Chapter 4

Summary: As an apology from the Dingo Channel, the iCarly gang has been given a free trip to Chuck Dingo World—the Most Magical Place on Earth. What could happen to them there—romance, adventure, hilarity? The answer is all of the above. SEDDIE.

Disclaimer: Over the last couple of stories, I've pretty much run out of witty disclaimers, so I'll just say it, haha. I don't own iCarly or Charles Dingo—both those rights go to Dan Schneider.

iGo to Dingo World: Chapter 4

After a good hour and a half of arguing everyone was able to get to sleep, save for Spencer who was in control of the wheel for the night shift. Seating arrangements changed during this time. Carly and Sam were, once again, seated together in the rear of the car while they slept whilst Freddie was once again left next to the elder Shay. He smiled in his slumber, thankful that he did not have to share his space with the restless Sam Puckett.

He had been the one to fight tooth and nail to get out of the backseat and away from the blonde iCarly co-host. Carly was the only one yelling back this time while Sam merely stood back rolling her eyes every few minutes, her normal bored expression plastered to her face until finally, _she_ stepped in and broke up the fight. "Just sit in the front, okay?" she had yelled. "Carly, you'll sit in the back with me. You're less likely to whimper in your sleep than the dork anyway."

And so, that was the way things worked out. Sam was just simply too tired to argue back. She was also sick of listening to Carly complain that Freddie was being silly while he kept trying to come up with reasons why it was a bad idea to have Sam in the same section of the car with him. She had stopped them when he accused her of being capable of giving him swine flu only because of the amount of ham she consumed. It was clear that either his mother was rubbing off on him, or that sitting next to her was truly the last thing he'd ever want.

It was the next morning that Sam broke her vow that no stops were to be made longer than thirty seconds that were not bathroom emergencies or gas fill-ups.

With a growl of her stomach acting as her alarm clock, Sam's eyes silently flashed open. It was just a little while after dawn, meaning that the blonde's sleeping cycle was off-whack considering she would've never been up this early back home. What was even stranger was that she was fully awake by this point. But perhaps it wasn't so strange, because if there was a fact that was universally known, it was that Sam's stomach ruled over her with an iron fist—so to speak—so the fact that she was hungry immediately took precedent over everything else.

Spencer screamed as two quick and deadly hands reached from around his headrest and grabbed the wheel from his hands. This promptly woke the rest of the car's inhabitants up. The elder Shay glanced back, and still, even after discovering that it was merely Sam behind the wheel-snatching, continued shouting in terror.

"Do you scream every time you're woken up?" mumbled Freddie as he stretched in the passenger seat.

"Yes," quickly answered a yawning Carly.

Spencer cast a glare at his sister and neighbor being that Sam was now doing the driving. "Unlike _some people_—" he began, still eyeing the two. "—I wasn't sleeping! And no!" he yelled as his hands made their way annoyed around his middle, his lips moving into a pout. "Only when something scary like _that_ happens. Which just happens to be a lot around you guys."

Carly frowned at her brother and pat him on the side apologetically before she turned her attention to the window. The passing scenery prompted the brunette to ask her seatmate—who was seemingly in some sort of trance-like state—"Where are we going?"

"Food," was the only thing the blonde answered with.

"But we've never been in this area before," the sculptor shook his head. "How are you sure you're going the right way?"

As Sam opened her mouth to answer, Freddie stole the reply. "Sam just knows these things," he said as he stared out the window blankly, still trying to properly wake himself up. Many things were on the teenage boy's mind at this moment. The night's sleep had allowed him to clear his head and now he thought back to the squabble before bed that he and Carly had had. His mind traced back to the look on Sam's face as she listened to his many excuses for not wanting to share a seat with her, and the final annoyed glance she shot him when she stepped in to break up the argument. He couldn't help but read more into the expressions than just boredom and annoyance. It was strongly masked, but he was sure that he had seen some form of—dare he say—disappointment in the blonde's eyes. The boy wondered why that was—as Sam had, as she stood idly by. Was he right to have argued to get away from her? Part of him told him that there was no question—he was surely right to have fought for such a point. But another portion of his being told him that he was wrong beyond all reason.

Instead of the normal outburst that would've generically ensued from Freddie's interruption, the only thing to fly to Sam's lips was not an insult, but a grin as she cast a quick glance at the tech producer in approval. "Mama knows her food joints," she added in confirmation of Freddie's point.

"Like she can just sense them or something."

Sam's head bounced from side-to-side, as an accommodating smile now rested on her face. "Mama won't disagree with that."

"Like food is the only thing her thought processes ever truly concentrate on." Freddie grinned as he spoke, face turning slowly to meet Sam. His self-assured disposition emitted towards the back of the car, and Carly could just envision Sam sniffing the air and snarling once picking up on said "smug scent," going into attack mode.

"Mama thinks the Little Nubber Boy is pushing his luck," growled Sam glancing pointedly towards the technical producer in the front.

It was obvious that Freddie was striving for a morning argument, and he got his wish as Carly hopelessly slapped her hands over her ears and kept her eyes on the road. Twice Spencer tried to once again take control of the wheel from Sam during this time, and twice he almost got his fingers snapped off by the angered blonde.

Things had really continued this way throughout the entire trip to Dingo World, aside from the more than occasional bathroom stop requested by Carly. "Number one or number two," Sam would ask in these instances, eyes trained on the road as Spencer snored in the back, readying himself for when he would have to again take the wheel.

Sheepishly, Carly would scarcely more than whisper her answer. She wondered why Sam had kept asking after the first time the reply had been "number one," because she complained, " I am _not_ going in a communal glass jar!"

Sam had simply shrugged and responded, "Your pee, your decision." But the blonde wasn't about to let her best friend suffer—if it were Freddie, that was a different question—so in such instances, she pulled over to the nearest rest stop and once again things would be more or less peaceful. No one ever saw Sam go to the bathroom, or stop to do so but they decided not to question it. As stated previously, sometimes it was just better not to ask.

After days on the road, the group had finally reached their destination and was completely overjoyed to stretch their legs. They hadn't even cared that they'd received one of the furthest parking spots from the main building of their hotel—it was simply a relief to be able to do anything besides sit.

Once they reached their room at the Dingo Celebrity Orchestra Resort, Sam instantly threw herself onto the bed furthest from the door, the heat obviously taking its toll on her.

"Okay," Freddie sighed, the heat—though not relevant through his actions, but through his tone—having affected him as well. "Now who's gonna share a bed with _that_ sweaty thing?" he asked, pointing his index finger at Sam.

The happy, cheery atmosphere had clearly had no effect on either of them as evidenced by Freddie's statement and the glare that Sam threw at him in response. "In case you've _forgotten_, doofus? My name is_ Sam_, and I am a girl."

"You make it very hard to tell!" shouted Freddie.

"Or maybe it's just because your brain is broken!" countered the blonde.

"If it is, it's because of your violent behavior!" the tech producer called back as the two Shay siblings stood in the background, looking back and forth from speaker to speaker.

"Then come here and I'll break it some more!" roared Sam as she leaped up from the bed.

"Wow!" yelled Spencer, calling the attention of the two sidekicks just as Sam got her hands around Freddie's neck. "You two fight like cats and dogs!"

"Cats and dogs?" the two restated lamely because of how cliché the statement was.

"Yeah!" called Spencer as he lifted his hands, making two typical mocking hand puppets. "You know, like, meow-meow!" he said, opening and closing the first one's mouth. "Ruff-ruff!" he repeated for the second. "Meow-meow!" he continued. "Ruff-ruff!" Things went on that way for a few seconds before Sam and Freddie both tossed a questioning glance at Carly.

"I don't know," she stated simply with a shake of her head.

"So," Freddie said with a raise of his brows as he pulled everyone back to the issue at hand. "You're not going to voluntarily share the bed with your best friend?" he asked the brunette.

"Nah-uh," she replied, once again shaking her head. "I'm not that stupid—Sam fights in her sleep."

"She _fights_?"

"Surprised, Fredweird?" questioned the blonde who was now leaning on her elbow from the bed.

"Actually, no," Freddie stated dully before turning his attention back to Carly. "But you slept in the same area as her in the car!"

"Yeah, I know," Carly called with a nod and narrowed eyes. "And I have the bruises to prove it—trust me."

Freddie visibly winced as if feeling Carly's pain. "So," he started sluggishly. "Rock, Paper, Scissors?"

"Sure," the brunette shrugged. "Let's go."

"Okay, I'll call it!" Spencer stated bouncily. "Rock, Paper, Scissors says shoot—aww…" The artist frowned, lowering his hand as his sister stood, triumphant with a "rock," whereas he and their neighbor had both chosen "scissors."

"Spencer," she called disapprovingly. "You've got to let me bump it."

Sighing, the sculptor exasperatedly lifted his hand in scissors formation again.

"Bam, bam!" shouted the cheerful brunette as her fist came down on both of the boys' hands. "Rock, for the win," she grinned.

"Good job, kid," Sam said with a matching grin as she bumped fists with her just-about-lifelong best friend.

"Yeah, yeah," Freddie said, casting an obnoxious roll of his eyes and a sneer at the blonde, who promptly stuck her tongue out at him. "Alright, it's down to you and me, Spence."

"No way!" yelled Spencer. "I forfeit!"

The tech producer's face went blank with surprise before he gleefully shouted, "Yes!"

"Sharing a bed with my sister's best friend would just be too weird."

The teenager's face froze. "Wait, Spencer, forfeiting means you lose. Meaning you'd have to share the bed with Sam."

"Uh, no," he shook his head. "I'm not doing that."

"But we were _playing_ Rock, Paper, Scissors on it!" cried Freddie in protest. "You lost! It's fair!"

"No it's not!" shouted Spencer. "It's icky!"

"It doesn't matter if it's icky!"

Spencer scoffed, aghast at the fact that his ally and guy-pal had turned against him. "And the world goes round?!"

"Look, Spencer," Freddie began with a sincere shake of his head. "I'm sorry that you're unhappy, but that's just the way things are. _You_ have to share the bed with Sam."

"I don't have to do anything, Mr. Prissy-Pants!"

Everyone stood in silence for a second. "Have you been taking nicknames from my mom?" asked Freddie, stifling a laugh.

All the members of the room—aside from Spencer—couldn't help but giggle at the remark. Even a hesitant Sam.

"No!" Spencer answered genuinely annoyed. "I'm older than you, I don't have to do what you tell me to."

"But you lost!"

"Hey!" Carly called, stepping between the two. "There's a simple solution to this. We'll play a round of "Not It," okay?"

"Ooh, I love this game!" clapped Spencer at the same time Freddie said, "Sounds fair."

"Okay," nodded the brunette. "One of us has to share a bed with Sam—not it!"

"Not it!" Freddie claimed, smirking in his victory.

Carly's eyebrows furrowed as she looked to Spencer—who was busy with the aforementioned mocking bare hand puppets of the cat and dog, silently having them snap at each other. "Spencer!" she shouted in vexation.

"Oh, right! Not it!"

"Too late," Freddie said, his smirk transforming to a grin as he crossed his arms.

"Aw man! I always miss my chance!" The sculptor snapped his fingers in regret.

The glaring Carly stilled for a moment just before she smiled, some sort of plan coming to mind. "So, it's settled," she shrugged happily, making her way to the bed on the right of the room.

"Yes it is," the tech producer practically sang as he smugly looked into the distance.

"Freddie will share the bed with Sam."

Freddie laughed deeply. "Yes he—wait, what?!" His gaze was angry as it flecked to Carly; Carly who had always been his neutral friend, his obsession, and now, his traitor. "But Spencer lost! Again!"

"It doesn't matter!" shouted Carly with a decided glare upon her face. "You should've been the one to ask about the bed first, then, if you're so upset!"

"I _was_ the first to ask!" retorted Freddie in shock and annoyance.

"Well it's over now!" the up-'til-now levelheaded brunette yelled. "So you can either sleep in _that bed_—" she pointed. "—Or you can sleep in the car!"

In case one was wondering, Sam, who had been strangely quiet through this span of time, had been resting with her eyes closed on the bed, obviously fast asleep.

"Fine!" Freddie shouted. "I'll take the car!"

But Sam apparently wasn't asleep as she scoffed at this. "Go on ahead, Nubber Butter."

"I _will_," he replied challengingly.

"Have fun. By the way, I disabled the air conditioning," answered the blonde still with her eyes closed as she raised an arm. In her outstretched hand was a wrench.

"What?" Freddie asked incredulously. "Why?"

"You kidding?" asked Sam, opening only one eye lazily. "Because no one's gonna steal a car with no air conditioning in Florida, duh." And then her eye slid shut again.

With a pained groan, the tech producer stomped back to the bed that he was obviously going to be forced to share and plopped down, ruffling his hair in frustration.

Carly took this time to leave and grab some ice for the group to store in their room.

Silence lingered in the hotel room for a moment as it became painfully apparent to Freddie that Sam would _always_ be one step ahead of him. And in that step ahead of him, she'd forever wait, so if, by chance he got there, she'd be ready to beat him down and put him back into his place. The tech producer found himself mentally laughing at this thought in spite of himself. He was sure that to an onlooker, his suffering had to look a hundred times as funny as it did to himself. And then he mentally wept upon realizing that even he found his pain laughable.

"Wha-oa!" Spencer called as he jumped to his feet. Jogging to the other section of the room, he called, "Bathroom, bathroom, bathroom!" But as soon as he reached the place where they were to bathe and….do other bathroom-related things for the remainder of their trip, he screamed.

This snapped Freddie out of his thoughts. "What?" he asked as he stood up to investigate. His reaction was quite similar. The technical producer's eyes widened as he shouted, "Holy—" but was cut off by Spencer's hand that clamped down over his mouth.

"Do not speak its name!" the sculptor hissed in the younger boy's ear, eyes still glued to whatever monstrosity had them spooked.

"What are you two looking at?" the brunette asked inquisitively as she re-entered the room, placing the now-filled bucket of ice on the table. The two boys were far too shocked to even speak to save the poor girl's senses, and she, too, journeyed to the lavatory. "Oh my god!" she screamed in terror. "Aw no wonder Dingo sent us to an economy priced hotel!"

All this shouting and commotion spiked Sam's curiosity, and she groaned as she rolled out of the bed. "Let me see," she demanded as she strutted her way across the room. Once she reached what the others may have claimed to be "the point of doom," she merely huffed. "Big deal—I've got worse stuff at home."

"I am _not_ going to the bathroom in there!" Carly shouted, backing her way to the front door. "This is worse than that hotel in California that your mom recommended," she whimpered, her eyes now on Sam.

The blonde frowned. "So?" she asked with a shrug. "Nothin' you can do about it."

"Oh I can _so_ do something about it!" The fearful web show host jumped as she spoke, as if her own high voice had frightened her. "I'll just knock next-door and ask to use their bathroom!"

Sam waved a hand. "Oh, please, they're not gonna let you do that."

Carly whined, almost pleadingly to Sam, as if, not asking for help, but merely asking the blonde to let her keep some of her admittedly foolish optimistic hope.

Spencer shrugged as walked over and threw a comforting arm over his sister's shoulders. "Hey, I don't want to go in there either," he said grimly. "But, you know—" his shoulders rose and fell again "—Just try to go fast."

The brunette looked up to her brother, her seemingly eternal happy smile now devoid of her face. "It's harder for girls."

"What's the problem?" he shook his head in disbelief. "Just stand and go!"

Carly shot her brother the same look he had shot her, only hers was twice more extreme. "Spencer, do you know the difference between boys and girls?!"

"Yes," he answered quietly after a moment. But still an awkward silence floated over the room as Spencer once again took his seat on the bed to the right of the room.

"Didn't you have to go to the bathroom?" asked Freddie.

"Oh not anymore," the artist stated eerily with a shake of his head.

Another awkward silence passed, this one slightly stranger than the last.

"Look, Carls, just do what I do," she said with an apologetic sigh, making her way to her suitcase. Once there, she pulled out an item and held it up for display. "Use a funnel."

Freddie's mouth gaped wide at the blonde, wishing deeply to believe that what he was seeing was just some strange nightmare and not reality. "That's the funnel from the chemistry set my mom bought me last Christmas!"

"Yep!" called Sam happily just before a smirk settled on her face. "And now it's mine. You can have it back later, if you want."

The tech producer looked around in disgust and shock, wondering if, at one point, he had been transferred to some other universe where this all made sense. Even Carly let out a tiny, "Ew," in unison with Spencer. "No I don't want it back!"

"Okay, good." And then Sam made her way to the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind her.

It took Freddie a moment to respond because he was still trying different ways of waking himself up from the hellish dream he believed he had found himself in. After slapping himself in the face, he walked to the now-closed door and rapped his fist against it. "Sam! Please don't use the funnel!"

"No!" was all she shouted in return.

"What does that mean? "No you won't use the funnel"?" he asked in slight hopes that he would get a positive answer to this question.

"No!" she called back again.

Groaning, the tech producer ran a quick hand through his hair, further causing it to stand out of place. He now successfully looked like the mad scientist he had never wished to become. But truly, the look was a perfect mirror of the state his sanity should have been in at the moment. "Can you at least enable the air conditioning in the car again?"

"No!" she replied yet again.

"Is "no" all you can say?" yelled the glaring teenage boy.

Expecting this question to come, Sam stepped out of the bathroom after flushing the toilet and replied, "That's the oldest trick in the book," shortly before adding, "Negative, Frederina."

"Yeah? Really?" asked Freddie with a shake of his head. "Fine. Let's see then." The tech producer searched his mind, trying to think of a question that would most definitely get another "no" out of the blonde that stood before him. "Would you ever dance with me again?"

Sam shrugged. "Sure."

"See, you—what?"

"If, by dance, you mean, "break your legs and then swing your helpless torso around the room," then yeah, I'll dance with ya." With a mischievous grin cast at the stunned boy next to her, Sam once again plopped down on the bed.

"Cats and dogs, I say!" shouted Spencer, before his face went blank. "Oh yeah." And then he took off running to the bathroom.

--

**AN: And there we have Chapter 4 XD I hope this one was just as enjoyable as the last three! I absolutely love reading your reviews and I want to thank each and every one of you for reading, reviewing, story alert-ing, favoriting me as an author, and favoriting this as a story—along with any of my other works that you have! It makes me incredibly proud as a writer. And that's pretty much it for this one! Oh! And in case anyone was wondering, "And the world goes round?!" was a quote I got from the Shakespearean play, Cymboline. It pretty much means, "I have no idea what's going on, yet the world keeps turning." Less funny now, isn't it? XD Yeah, I thought so. Sorry. **

**Oh, by the way, the resort mentioned—the Celebrity Orchestra resort—is a direct play on Disney's All-Star Music resort, where we actually stayed during out vacation XD It really wasn't that bad, to be honest. It was quite clean.**

**-Fictions**


	5. Chapter 5

Summary: As an apology from the Dingo Channel, the iCarly gang has been given a free trip to Chuck Dingo World—the Most Magical Place on Earth. What could happen to them there—romance, adventure, hilarity? The answer is all of the above. SEDDIE.

Disowner: Despite how much he denies it, Sam owns Freddie. (Thanks for the idea, Meranie~!) But alas, I do not own iCarly or Charles Dingo. Both are owned by Dan Schneider.

iGo to Dingo World: Chapter 5

The first night at Chuck Dingo World was surprisingly peaceful. For anyone who wasn't Freddie Benson. Poor Freddie spent the hours of what was supposed to be rest being kicked and punched by the sleeping blonde that lay beside him.

The Shays in the other bed seemed to have had organized themselves at some point during the night to lay in a position that would best allow them to fulfill their respective responsibilities. Spencer found himself closer to, and facing the door, seeing that he was the oldest of the group—regardless of his maturity—and therefore the protector.

Carly slept on the side closest to the nightstand, and therefore, closer to the next bed which housed her restless two best friends. This way, if a two-sided fight broke out (a one-sided fight was constantly being waged in Sam's slumber,) she would be able to leap out of bed and break it up.

Though both Spencer and Carly were both currently asleep—and snoring, in Spencer's case—they knew that they would be perfectly alert if anything that required their attention came to pass.

Sam was free to toss and turn in the bed that she and Freddie shared, but she had commanded that he keep turned in the opposite direction, toward the bathroom. When Freddie questioned why this was, Sam only gave him the excuse that this way, he wouldn't be able to block her hits, making the "rest" more enjoyable for her. But truly, she wasn't sure of the answer. Some warning alarm just seemed to go off inside of her when she pictured sleeping facing Freddie. Without second-guessing her feelings or even questioning just why that alarm went off, she just accepted the idea and ordered the technical producer thus.

After getting the daylights beaten out of him for a good four hours, Freddie decided to get up to once again work on his duplicate chip. By this point, he was just building the device. Everything else was complete—the original chip's frequency was recorded and captured by the software on his laptop, and it was ready to be implanted into the new medium. But once he retrieved the tiny contraption from his suitcase, Sam took to her feet—still in her sleep—and began violently making her way towards Freddie, as if she could sense his presence.

Hastily, he returned his things to his luggage and jumped back into bed, Sam following suit with a swift punch and a kick to his back and legs. After exhaling a pained groan, Freddie growled. At that moment, part of him _wanted _his mother to find them.

But that all disappeared at around five in the morning. At that point, Sam ended her seemingly everlasting assault with a dreamy sigh. The sleepless Freddie looked back with confusion at his blonde-haired demonic companion. Sam was now clutching her pillow tightly, eyebrows furrowed as if in sadness or exertion. A relieved breath passed over his lips as he reached over and pat Sam on the shoulder. To his surprise, Sam leaned her head up—eyes still shut as her spirit remained in the dream world—and inclined onto Freddie's hand. But instead of pulling his hand away, he turned it over, so that he cupped Sam's cheek in his palm. He stared at her in the dim bathroom light that had been left on at Sam's mocking request "for Freddie's sake" as his fingers flexed and retracted, petting her skin. His eyes were trance-like as the instinctive motion was preformed. And suddenly, he found himself moving closer—lowering himself on the bed as he neared her, now close enough to hear her deep, sleeping breaths. His eyes slowly closed as he carefully moved himself even closer to Sam, tilting his head as he did so. This time, both of their eyes would be closed, unlike last time when hers remained open in shock, or some other emotion he didn't really understand.

That's when Freddie Benson jolted back into a sitting position, cautiously but quickly sliding his hand away from her and bringing it to his own face. What was he thinking, he wondered as he ran his palm over his eyes and cheeks. He was just about to kiss Sam Puckett! He couldn't kiss Sam Puckett! Part of his brain questioned why. He paused. It was a good question. Why _couldn't_ he just lean over and kiss her right now? But then another question invaded his mind: why did he _want_ to kiss Sam? All at once, a million answers to his question swirled through his brain. The buzzing of a million of his own mental voices trying to talk over one another created such noise in his head that he chocked it up to drowsiness. And once again facing away from the blonde, he lowered himself to the bed and finally got some sleep…

…Only to be woken up two hours later by a punch to his ribs. The young tech producer found himself going through three emotions in the span of one second—first confusion, then shock, then anger, as his eyebrows lowered into a glare at the blonde who was resting on her knees next to him. Her hands were on her hips, and her mouth was set into a warning sneer. Wait, why could he see Sam by just looking next to him? Had she switched sides of the bed with him at night, or—? No, he was still in the same place. But his body had switched positions. Immediately, the reason behind the attack became clear. He had shifted in his two hours of sleep to face the dangerous blonde. And she did not like that. She didn't like that at all.

Quite the contrary to Freddie's beliefs, it wasn't that Sam disliked the position she found herself waking up in that morning—not strongly, at least. When she had awoken, just minutes before Freddie's "punch in the face wake-up call," she noticed that she wore a peaceful smile whilst facing the technical producer. But once she came to her senses and the veil of sleep and tranquil dreaming left her, that alarm rang deep within her being, forcing an angry snarl through her lips and an angry fist at his ribs. (It was almost his face that took the blow, but Sam had, at the last minute, at least been able to find the self-restraint to prevent that from happening.)

One should keep in mind that the Shay siblings were already up by this point. In fact, Sam and Freddie had woke up the latest of them all. Carly was the first to wake up in the room, and while everyone else was still resting, she had called the main desk for assistance in cleaning the hotel chamber's bathroom. After the personnel had left, Spencer stretched awake, searching for something hastily with his hands. To anyone else, the act probably looked strange. But Carly knew what he was searching for—his stuffed penguin, Pip, that he slept with at home. "You forgot it, Spencer," she had reminded him, smiling somberly.

"Oh," he pouted, finally sitting up.

With a quick happy—almost bouncy—glance at her still-sleeping friends, she made her way to the now-clean bathroom to take a morning shower. Spencer had bravely showered the night before, so in the time he saved, he got ready and left the room to chase some of the tiny lizards outside that were native to that part of Florida—he had theorized that this act would build his endurance for the rest of the day.

But while Carly showered, and Spencer chased lizards, in bed awkwardly sat our two favorite sidekicks, Freddie and Sam. Freddie was no longer angry, because he knew that it was he himself who had done wrong this time. "Sam, I—um, I didn't mean—" he stuttered and eventually broke off.

Rolling her eyes, the sneer vanished from Sam's face, her normal look of sheer boredom replacing it. "Get up, dork," she commanded, reaching out her hand.

Freddie really hadn't been expecting to get any help from Sam in the matter, but the help was welcomed. After unsuccessfully trying to stifle a crooked smile from forming on his lips, he gripped her waiting hand and allowed her to yank him up.

The same reluctant smile forced its way to Sam's lips as well, even causing her to let out a tiny ghost of a snicker as her eyes did another 360.

Once again the quiet of the car had resurfaced in the room. After staring at each other blankly for a few seconds, Sam's eyes dropped to the floor, and Freddie sat back down on the edge of the bed. "Nice weather we're having," he muttered.

Sam's left eyebrow rose high into her bangs. Was he _really_ trying small talk? "Yeah," she scoffed. "If you like being trapped on the sun."

Looking up to her, he cast her a confused expression. "It's a dry heat."

"There is nothing dry about that heat!" she exclaimed gesturing towards the door. "I think you got your coasts crossed, doof."

Freddie's eyebrows lowered into a glare. "I meant on the _sun_, Sam."

Sam scoffed. "It's not a dry heat on the sun," she said as her arms crossed over her chest. "It's death. Instantaneous death. Nothing hot about it, you'd be dead before you could feel it."

The tech producer's eyes rolled as he heaved an exasperated sigh. He opened his mouth to bite back, but was interrupted when Carly exited the bathroom, already dressed, but drying her hair with a towel. "Oh," she beamed from her tilted head, squeezing the towel to drain her locks. "Good morning, you two."

"That was awesome!" Spencer yelled as he thrust the door open. He was sopping wet from head-to-toe. "You guys shoulda seen the size of that lizard! It was like, the size of a baby crocodile!" What Spencer didn't know was that it _had_ been a crocodile. The Dingo parks worked as efficiently as they could to keep some of the animals indigenous to Florida, such as crocodiles out of their vicinities, but these things just seemed to find the elder Shay.

"Spencer!" Carly called disapprovingly and incredulously. "Why are you all wet?"

"I chased it into a pool!" Spencer replied happily, oblivious to his younger sister's tone. "Scared a few of the kids, but I got it—all is well," he smiled.

"Yeah, because I'm sure it was the lizard they were afraid of and not the fully-clothed full-grown man who jumped into the swimming pool unannounced." Carly shook her head, though a smile found its way to her face.

"You're being sarcastic, aren't you?" asked Spencer with a creased forehead.

"No," replied the brunette, stretching the word in a stereotypically sarcastic manner.

"You did it again!" the artist called, pointing at the web show host.

"Go into the bathroom and get changed," she laughed, pushing her brother towards his suitcase.

As soon as Spencer returned clothed and, once again, dry, he asked, "So, where are we going for today—which park are we visiting first?"

Carly shrugged. "I figured we'd go to Mystic Nation," she said with a nod of her head towards Sam and Freddie. "It's where most of the iconic rides are at Dingo World."

"Oh no," stated Sam, dully. "You mean, even the ride that shall not be named?"

""The World Ain't So Big"! Yes!" Spencer shouted, leaping and plunging his fist into the air with joy.

An audible and collective groan swept over the room. Though none of the members of the iCarly team had ever gone on "The World Ain't So Big" before, most of them knew that to do so would be a bad idea. "I'll wait for you guys at the exit," said Sam.

"No," Carly responded, shaking her head as her hands slid to her hips. "We're all going on that ride."

"What?" Sam yelled in shock. "Why? Only Spencer wants to go on!"

"Because," said the brunette, walking to stand in front of her brother, her hands still glued to her hips in annoyance and displeasure. "Then, after we go on, we can _all _complain to _Spencer_ that the ride was torture and that it was _his _idea that we go on it!"

"Silly sister!" Spencer laughed, patting Carly on the head. "I know it's torture!"

"Then why are you making us go on it?" asked the web show host as she took on a look of surprise that made her look very reminiscent of Mrs. Benson. This wasn't uncommon, and most just regarded this face as a standard "mothering expression." But still, whenever it turned up, it worried Spencer. Not this time, though.

"Because it's a landmark!" he responded. "It's _historical_ torture!"

"So," began Freddie with a confused appearance. Sam had already given up on the conversation and had taken to the bathroom to get ready, muttering annoyed under her breath all the while. "That makes it okay?" It was more of a statement than a question.

"Yes!"

After a rather unhealthy but delicious breakfast and a rather long shuttle ride, the four friends had finally made it to Mystic Nation. The heat was nearly unbearable, but still they valiantly pressed on. Well, three out of the four. Sam took to slumping behind the rest of her peers until one point when she just stopped, no longer having the will to keep going. "I can see everything from splashface," she complained when Carly ran back to get her.

Sam was reluctant to follow on her own, so for the rest of the venture to the ride, "The World Ain't So Big," Carly and Freddie practically dragged the blonde along by her wrists. They were almost overcome by joy as they sped through the line and took their seats on the tiny plastic boat that would be their only form of transportation for the next ten minutes or so. But at least it was an air conditioned ten minutes or so. Carly, Sam, and Freddie found themselves suddenly daydreaming about the comforting and cool interior of Sam's sports car as they disappeared further and further into the dark tunnel of repetitive singing animatronic puppets. There was, regretfully, no way back now.

Though Spencer was wearing a happy face when the ride began, as soon as their boat emerged from what was from now to forever to be known as "the tunnel of death," he wore the same scowl as everyone else. "_Wow_ that ride was stupid," he groaned. "Let's never go on it again."

Carly threw her hands in the air, desperate to understand her brother's line of thought. "Why did we even need to go on in the first place? We kept telling you it was horrible! Even you said so yourself!"

Spencer sighed, shaking his head. "How many times do I have to tell you?" he asked. "It's a—"

"Landmark, so we had to ride it, we know," snidely finished Sam. "Now can we please get somewhere cooler with food?" The "please," though it was added for common courtesy seemed to convey no sentiment in the sentence whatsoever. In fact, it was so drowned out by insistence and impatience that it just faded into the remark practically unnoticed.

And so, the group journeyed off to find a place to eat. Sam had been willing and already-plotting to sneak them into "Firerina's Castle Dining Room" for lunch, but Carly strongly disapproved of this idea, thus at her wishes, Sam ceased planning.

The blonde was still in the lead, though, seeing as how she had a nose for sniffing out food. It was a known fact that she would never find the healthiest of dishes, but she was sure to find the most delicious of them. Eventually, their search had led them to a small restaurant in the "Thrill Town" section of the park.

Carly frowned as she read the sign on the awning of the food stop. ""ARG Sensei's Ninja-Style Tacos and Taco Salads"? What is this place—ninja-themed, pirate-themed, or Mexican…?"

"Who cares?" asked Sam apathetically as she turned to look at their new surroundings. "They've got tacos—that's all that should matter."

"Hey, guys!" Spencer called happily from where he had run ahead. As Freddie and Carly turned to him, they found themselves raising their eyebrows at what the artist was now holding up for display. "They give you a Viking hat in every Kids Meal you buy!"

"Vikings, too?" asked Carly in sheer puzzlement.

"Dude," Sam called from the direction she faced, away from the restaurant, her eyes wide, and voice drained from astonishment.

With a questioning look shared between the two of them, Carly and Freddie turned to face whatever had Sam so amazed. ""Ninjas of the Bay"?" asked Freddie with thick disbelief in his voice, that such a thing would have stirred the blonde's interests.

"Sam, I thought you hated rides like that," Carly stated with a shake of her head. "It's practically like "The World Ain't So Big," just with ninjas, and less repetitive."

"Carly—" Sam began without taking her eyes off the ride. "—It's ninjas. I _have_ to like it."

There was a long pause in which the brunette simply stared incredulously at her best friend. She was being exactly as Spencer was with the previous ride. And even Sam had complained then. But suddenly, it was _okay_ to act that way over a ride? "You people are so illogical!" she yelled, throwing up her hands once again.

"Carls, you know me," said Sam with a roll of her eyes toward her best friend. "Have I ever been logical?"

"No," answered Freddie bluntly from Sam's right side.

Sam's face transformed into a glare, her violent sneer once again settling on her lips as she turned toward the teenage boy. "No one asked you!" she shouted, and then Sam, apparently finding her second wind, grabbed both Carly and Freddie's hands and dragged them off toward the ride.

Spencer had been arguing with the clerk at the restaurant to just let him purchase a hat as a souvenir, promising all sorts of odd things as payment. "I'll give you a giant robot made of bottles!" yelled the sculptor just before he took in the fact that his younger sister and friends were quickly wandering off. "Hey, wait!" he shouted, suddenly taking off after them, the still-not-purchased hat on his head as he did. He was, after all, the eldest of the group—he had to be there to protect them.

The clerk yelled angrily for Spencer to return as he ran off, but his demands fell upon deaf ears.

Once the ride was over, Sam demanded to ride once more. Carly and Spencer protested the idea claiming that they were hungry. In reality, they weren't so much hungry as they were unimpressed with the theme of the ride, which seemed to jump all over the place. Carly had glanced back in the middle of the slow-moving boat journey and whispered, "Why are there ninjas at the bay, anyway?" to her older brother, whom shrugged just as confused as she was.

Freddie, gallantly with a sigh, sacrificed himself to another round of singing out-of-place ninjas with Sam so that Carly and Spencer could go and get something to eat. The sympathetic brunette told him that he didn't need to do that, that Sam could either go on by herself or—silently, she added, hoping to not be heard—wait 'til they were finished eating to ride again. But Freddie assured that it was okay, and he insisted, with a sad smile, that they would meet back up at "ARG Sensei's Ninja-Style Tacos and Taco Salads." Sam told Spencer and Carly to get her one of each with everything on them.

"Are you sure?" asked Spencer. "I've seen those things! They're huge-mongous!"

"I know what I said!" yelled Sam as she strung Freddie along, dragging him back to the line.

One could imagine Spencer's surprise when Freddie had waved goodbye to the Shays with a smile dancing on his lips, as if he were enjoying the predicament he found himself in. He tilted his head in confusion as Carly stared after the two of them, smiling with her hands on her hips. Shaking her head, she wondered just how long this would be going on—both of them unknowingly enjoying each other's company and treatment. They were so reluctant! But the brunette had a good feeling about this trip. Something inside of her just told her that all she saw was a good omen of what was to come.

After Sam and Freddie endured another ride of "Ninjas of the Bay," they met Carly and Spencer for lunch as promised. But as soon as they were done eating, Sam jumped up claiming that they then had to go on the "Lunar Summit" indoor roller coaster immediately, much to Freddie's displeasure being that he was afraid of such rides. Sam then proceeded to drag the technical producer to a small vendor stand and thwacked him over the head three times with a pair of Crocs before slapping them, violently, back on the rack she retrieved them from.

Carly truthfully had a bit of a fear of roller coasters as well, but she had vowed that when she stepped foot in Dingo World, she would go on rides that she normally wouldn't. After all, it wasn't like she got the opportunity to go to the famous park every day. Spencer, on the other hand, was just thrilled to be going into "space," and didn't even take into account that the ride was of the speedy variety.

On their way to "Future Town," where the roller coaster was located, however, the group ran into Firerina's famous evil stepmother and ugly stepsisters. Though the group of kids—and their childish guardian—housed a truly reasonable hatred for the Dingo Channel, there was no denying that some of their early movies were just purely classic and magical. "Firerina" had always been one of Sam's favorites. This was a fact _only_ known to Carly, so when she spotted the characters, she demanded Sam, Freddie, and Spencer take a picture with them.

As they approached the characters, Sam pointed to the lighter haired of the stepsisters. "Hey," she said to the woman wearing an extreme amount of eye shadow and blush. "You look just like my Aunt Maggie, except you wear way less makeup than her.

"Oh," she reached for her own face worriedly. "I was afraid of that. Should I apply more?"

"Nah," Sam called waving a lazy hand through the humid air. "You don't want to look like my Aunt Maggie."

"Oh, okay," she answered with a quick smile and nod as the apathetic and tactless blonde got into position for the photo to be taken. But then she gave a confused look, unsure if she should be offended that she even remotely resembled the woman.

"Hello, ladies," Freddie said, smiling flirtatiously as he strutted up to characters, hands suavely in his pockets. All three women suddenly glared down at the teenage boy, but he remained, never faltering from his smug disposition.

Slowly, Sam, too, switched her focus to Freddie, glaring uniformly with the rest of the women. "He's nubbish, right?" she asked without turning away.

The women all sluggishly replied, "Yes," leaving Freddie rolling his eyes as he got into position.

Then Spencer approached, but he knew better than to speak as the others had done. He just smiled happily, and rather awkwardly. The stepmother seemed to approve of this as the artist, too, got into place. "Make your move, girls. This could be the last chance at marriage you ever have," stated the evil mother of the two girls.

So, the picture was taken with these exact poses: Sam smiling smugly, hands on her hips as the lighter haired sister stood behind her with a fearful expression, Freddie glaring at Sam from the corner of his eye, sneering with the evil stepmother glaring just as dangerously down at him, and the darker haired stepsister placing a gentle but over-dramatic kiss on Spencer's cheek as he beamed happily in surprise.

Carly grinned at this. It would be a picture that would "inexplicably" make its way onto the iCarly site for sure.

Finally they made it to "Future Town" and "Lunar Summit." Much to Carly's surprise, the ride proved to be a productive experience. The end result: Freddie became a rabid fan of roller coasters, trying to go on every one that he saw. He was now a thrill-seeker, as Sam was. In all honesty, this wasn't very shocking. Sam tended to bring out the more "teenage" side in Freddie. He really had changed since they'd first met. And though that fact was admittedly partly due to puberty, it was also due to the blonde aggressor he spent most of his time with. She was the one to make Freddie act his age, and it was definitely appreciated by everyone—aside from said boy's mother. The brunette took a dreamy sigh as she watched Freddie run off, now pulling _Sam_ by the hand to go on the next ride.

Not only was the Dingo atmosphere contagious, but also it was obvious that Freddie needed Sam to rile him up, just like Sam needed Freddie to cool her down. It was perfectly symbiotic. And it was wonderful.

"Ah! Help! Help!" came Freddie's frantic voice from far ahead.

Carly grimaced. "Sam!" she called. "Just because he was pulling you faster than you wanted to walk doesn't mean you have to break his arm!"

--

**AN: Yay! So there's Chapter 5. Sorry that it took so long, you guys, but I hope you enjoyed it! Spot the references and name them in your review and you'll win an Internet cookie! I don't know if you guys noticed last chapter, but a couple of you asked what was in the bathroom that scared the guys and Carly so much. See the hint: "HOLY—" "Do not speak its name!" ;D I'm sure you can figure it out. It's disgusting, I know. Anyway, thank you again for giving this fic so much attention and love. It is really appreciated! **

**-Fictions**


	6. Chapter 6

Summary: As an apology from the Dingo Channel, the iCarly gang has been given a free trip to Chuck Dingo World—the Most Magical Place on Earth. What could happen to them there—romance, adventure, hilarity? The answer is all of the above. SEDDIE.

Disclaimer: I don't think Mrs. Puckett could even be considered as owning Sam. And as she does not own Sam, I do not own iCarly or Charles Dingo. Those rights go to Dan Schneider. Oh, and the rhyme for the "Dingo Review" is from, as said, "The World Ends With You," by Tetsuya Nomaru.

iGo to Dingo World: Chapter 6

The night had ended on a bittersweet note. On one hand, the fireworks show that the group had been looking forward to in Mystic Nation had been cancelled due to rain. But on the other hand, the rain had been so soothing and it really cooled down the atmosphere that was once horribly humid.

As soon as they got back to their hotel room, they took a vote for which park they would visit next. Zoo Nation won unanimously. As Carly was out getting another bucket of ice and Spencer was watching TV, Sam found herself modeling possible outfits she was to wear for the next day in front of Freddie.

"So I figure I'll wear this shirt—" she said, pulling a purple top out of her suitcase. "—With these shorts." In her other hand, she held a pair of dark brown cargo shorts. Normally, she would've been doing this with Carly, but as was stated, her best friend was out, much to her annoyance, gathering cubes of ice. It truly didn't matter what was said, she'd be wearing the outfit she'd chosen no matter what. All Sam was really looking for was approval. And perhaps some advice on accessories, but she knew that was a lost cause with Freddie as a consultant. He knew almost as much about accessories as she did—and that wasn't a lot.

Unfortunately for her, Freddie had been quite aggravated. He had been trying to work on the finishing touches to the duplicate chip for the past hour that they had been in the hotel room. And for the majority of that past hour, Sam was mocking him for "being such a nerd." She didn't understand how imperative it was that this be done as soon as possible. Now that they were in a fairly stationary position, there was no doubt that his mother would soon be on her psychotic way to take back her son, and punish them all in some way or another. "Sam, I don't care about that," he responded harshly, prompting a glare out of her—a glare that, to the trained eye would be obviously more a cover-up for hurt than blunt annoyance. It would've been easy to see for Freddie if he bothered taking his eyes away from his project. "Don't you have Carly for that?"

"She's out getting ice," she answered coldly, actual annoyance seeping into her tone due to his obliviousness.

Freddie's hand flew loose of the screwdriver he held as he gave an exaggerated shrug. "So," he began, elongating the word obnoxiously, obviously beat from the day. "Why don't you wait 'til she gets back?" Freddie reached down and retrieved the screwdriver from where it had fallen, as Sam's eyes grew tighter in her glare.

"Because I thought this particular situation could call for someone even more feminine than Carly," she growled. "And if I know anyone feminine, it's you, Fredwina. You take the cake for most womanly person I know."

It was now that he looked up. But all hurt was devoid of Sam's face already, now replaced with pure anger. "I'm not feminine! It's just that you're so masculine that anything below a snarling baboon seems girly to you!" he shouted, countering. "But hey, who can blame you—snarling baboons are half your family!"

"At least mine aren't all prissy, rich, fancy-pants geniuses!"

Freddie's face turned to one of mocking curiosity. "I'm sorry—where was the insult in all that?"

"The insult is your face!" shouted back Sam in a fit of rage, punching him in the shoulder.

"Oh, real mature Sam!" he yelled, jumping to his feet, brandishing the screwdriver as if it were a knife. This prompted Spencer to leap behind the bed he was sitting on and clutch the small complementary Dingo doll the hotel workers had left in the room. Freddie would never hurt Sam, but that's not to say that Sam wasn't perfectly capable of snatching the screwdriver away and using it to murder Freddie. And then some.

"You're such a jerk, Freddie!" the blonde shouted, some of her hurt from before leaking out into her tone. "How can such a big jerk be wrapped inside such a tiny dork?"

"Me?" yelled Freddie incredulously. "Me the jerk?"

"Yes, Broken English Man, _you're_ the jerk!"

"I think you're confused, Sam. You're the jerk! You're the _only_ jerk! Ever!"

And that's when Carly came back in. The fighting continued past her small-voiced attempts at getting her friends' attention. But, Carly had once again had it. "Hey!" she yelled, taking two pieces of ice out of the newly filled ice bucket and chucking them at Sam and Freddie. The sudden coldness caused them to cease their fighting and turn to face their mothering friend, their chests still heaving with adrenaline. And it wasn't just the ice that was cold. "You're both lucky that I can't throw because I was _really_ aiming to kill you."

This prompted the two sidekicks to calm down. Their faces dropped, along with their hostility. Sam returned the future outfit she had dropped to her suitcase, and Freddie climbed back to his spot on the bed, sitting with his legs folded "Indian Style."

Carly's venomous glare disappeared, transfiguring into a frown of sheer disappointment. "What's wrong with you two?" she asked sadly as Spencer rose from his hiding place behind the bed. "You were fine when I left. You were practically fine all day!"

"He started it," Sam grumbled.

"Sam," scolded Carly in disbelief.

Sam's face shot up, her brows creased with innocence and sadness. "He really did this time!"

"I did," confessed Freddie grimacing and nodding. Though the blonde had initially started the torture that had led up to his rudeness toward Sam, he felt at fault for the squabble that had just taken place. "I'm sorry, Sam."

"Yeah, well," she began dully from where she sat with her back faced toward the boy, still at her suitcase. "You should be."

It was only now that Freddie realized the sadness in Sam's tone in the middle of the fight. And he truly realized that it had been his fault. He shouldn't have snapped, and as Freddie tended to get once realizing he'd unintentionally hurt someone, he was incredibly guilty. Not another word went said between the two of them for the rest of the night, except for Sam's demand that Freddie sleep a couple of inches away from her than he did the last night. He agreed without argument. Sam's brows creased too at that moment, but it went unnoticed and soon, she was asleep, punching and kicking her way through another restful/restless night. Freddie didn't complain one bit, or even try to block Sam.

And, as the night before, when five in the morning rolled around, the fighting finally ceased. Sam's now limp hand fell just brushing against Freddie's back. He hadn't meant to the night before, but this time, he turned toward the blonde, face still sunken with sadness and regret. He sighed as he took in the sight of Sam's sleeping form, her face once again a mask of struggle and pain. This was how it had looked the night before, and probably every night before that. But for some reason, this particular night Freddie couldn't help but think that it was his fault that she looked in such pain. He reached a gentle hand out and covered the one the rested nearest his body, never truly letting their skin touch, but just hovering his palm over hers. "I'm sorry," he murmured as sleep clouded his tone. "I really am." And then the mass of dreams awaiting him in his mind claimed him, his hand falling into hers.

"S'okay," slurred the blonde next to him, knowing that he must've been asleep. "So'm I…" Closing her hand around his, the night/dawn melted away.

Once again Carly had risen earliest, sluggishly rising to her feet with a sigh that transformed into a yawn and further changed into a wide stretch. Running a hand through her hair, she walked to the window, throwing open the curtains so that the Florida morning sun could shine through.

Spencer groaned from the bed, rolling over, refusing to admit that he was so close to waking. Desperate to cling to the dream world, he squeezed the complementary Dingo doll that lay within his grasp tighter—it had been substituting for Pip the penguin.

Carly smiled at the sight of this, and then, walking to the next bed, she couldn't help but broaden her grin. In front of her were Sam and Freddie, both facing each other, and joined by their hands. She hated to have to wake them up but they needed to get an early move on things this morning. "Rise and shine!" she called, almost wishing she had some pans to bang together to fully fill the role she seemed to be inhabiting at the moment. "It's 7 on the dot! The animals aren't going to wait for you!"

Freddie rasped out a grunt as he propped himself up on his elbow, his hand sliding away from Sam's clutch. Upon seeing that he was, once again, facing the blonde, his jaw went slack, eyes widening slightly with nerves and fear. And then, oblivious to Carly's presence, oblivious to Spencer's presence, and if anyone else were there, he probably would've been oblivious to them as well, he flipped over, only truly seeing Sam.

The brunette sighed and shook her head at the act as she reached down and poked the blonde. "Sam, get up," she said, moving back just in time for Sam to take a swing at the place where Carly's hand was. Her eyes opened slowly and rose to the tech producer next to her. When the only view she caught of him was of his back, she frowned. Carly mirrored her best friend's look. This needed to change. They were both so oblivious of each other.

Wiping the grimace off her face, Sam sat up from underneath the covers and through a yawn said, "So, you wake me up and not the Little Big Dork?"

Carly rolled her eyes. "Freddie's already awake, he's just acting like he isn't." Which was true, she just never mentioned that it was at Sam's sake that he acted so.

Freddie let out a groan as he joined Sam in a sitting position on the bed. "How do you rest through all that fighting?" he asked incredulously.

The blonde shrugged nonchalantly. "I don't feel it."

"Yeah, but it's gotta leave some strain on your body," he said, rolling his eyes. "It's impossible to do all that punching and kicking without feeling even a little worn out."

"Nope," Sam replied, drawing out the word and popping the "p." "I'm completely rested. Not sure I can say the same about you, though, Fredwin," she said, slyly turning to face the boy next to her, her trademark mischievous smirk set into her features.

Normalcy set in as Freddie turned slowly to glare at Sam, the playful smirk still dancing on her face. It was very much like the moment they shared whilst convincing Freddie to alter Jake Crandall's voice so he could sing on iCarly. Carly smiled, nodding. Normalcy was good.

…

Wait, no it wasn't. Normalcy was _bad_. Normalcy was reverting back to hatred instead of opening up and making way for something more. This was not desired. "No!" she called frantically—almost too frantically. "No-no-no! This is no time for violence. You two get up and get ready! We have to head out!"

Silence. Sam and Freddie stared at Carly in confusion. The blonde's eyebrows were low and furrowed. If someone didn't know Sam, they would easily mistake this look to mean, "unimpressed." But Carly knew it was only puzzlement. As for Freddie, he donned a stereotypical look of wonder—eyebrow cocked, head tilted; the works.

"Now!" threatened Carly.

But still, the two sat quietly, their expressions fading even more into perplexity.

It was then that the brunette raised the squirt bottle/fan that she'd bought the other day. Both Sam and Freddie knew what this meant, and fear flickered in their eyes. Getting up as quick as they could, they both began getting ready.

Spencer had been using this time to get dressed, so it was now that he stepped out of the bathroom fully clothed. He chuckled at his sister as she still clung to her weapon, the manic look on her face unmoving. "Wow, sis," he laughed. "You're even crazier than normal today."

Squirt.

"Aw man, now I gotta go change _again_!"

As soon as the group arrived at Zoo Nation, they were surprised by one of the Dingo park workers that jumped out at them from the bushes.

Everyone screamed, Carly clung to Spencer, and Sam and Freddie were grappling it out over who would stand in front of the other as a shield. In the end, a fearful, wide-eyed, and gulping Freddie ended up in the front, looking more like a frightened chipmunk than a sturdy blockade.

The staff member chuckled at this. "Hi!" he called cheerily.

"You almost gave me a heart attack!" yelled Spencer angrily, gripping his chest with his hand that was free of his sister.

"Er, sorry," replied the worker embarrassedly. But he quickly slipped back into cheer as he once again shouted. "You four are our a thousandth, a thousand and first, a thousand and second, and a thousand and third guests for today! Well, the other three of you, don't really count but—"

"I think you gave that bird a heart attack!" Spencer shrieked, pointing to the cloudless heavens. "It fell from the sky when you yelled like that!"

"I—um—yes…" the staff member said, trying to desperately stick to the cheerful attitude he was getting paid for to display.

"I could've been that bird!

"I'M SORRY!" shouted the unfortunate Dingo employee.

"Don't be sorry, just don't do that!"

"Spencer!" called Carly in condemnation. "He said he was sorry—let it be!"

Taking a deep breath, the man tried to steady himself and force the best smile onto his lips that he could muster. "But because you are our thousandth, thousand and first, thousand and second, and thousand and third visitors of the day—" he sputtered. "—Be-because of that…you've won—"

"Is it Fat Cakes?" Sam questioned, slipping into her hunger trance as she pulled Freddie out of the way and took his place in the front.

"Well, no," replied the worker with a lopsided frown. "But you have won a chance at winning dinner reservations at "The Buffalo Burial Ground," the most expensive and hardest restaurant to get reservations at in all of Zoo Nation!"

"Oh," the blonde groaned angrily, obviously being let down by this news. It was silent for a moment as the worker strongly considered just walking away from the seemingly dysfunctional group.

"Yeah," nodded Freddie, as if reading the man's thoughts. "If it doesn't deal with Fat Cakes, then this girl—" he pointed at Sam and shook his head. "—Wants nothing to do with it."

With a quick glare spreading across her features, Sam swiftly elbowed Freddie in the gut, leaving him gasping and slouching forward. "You know that's not true!" she growling, glancing behind her slightly. "So, what's the dealio?" the blonde questioned the staff member with a bob of her head. "What do we gotta do to win this meal?"

"Well, funny you should ask," he laughed. Clearing his throat, he yelled, "Like a bolt from the blue, it's time for the Dingo Review!" Then he winked and nudged Carly. "Just like the "Reaper Review" in "The World Ends With You"!"

The brunette smiled nervously at the gesture, scooting closer to her brother, and again gripping his arm.

Sam's glare tightened. After all, nobody likes a rhymer. "Boy, if you keep rhymin', someone's gonna be a-dyin'."

"Hey, that didn't rhyme," frowned the Dingo employee. But upon seeing Sam's eyebrows lower even more in annoyance and her teeth become bared, he let out a fearful laugh. "And I'm okay with that! Okay, to win the meal, all you have to do is answer this question correctly—Dingo's Mystic Nation is known for its variety of coasters that all fall under the title "Summit." What three "Summit" rides exist in Mystic Nation?"

The answer to this question should've been obvious to all of them, considering they had only been to Mystic Nation the day before, thought Sam. But she was particularly disappointed in Freddie, who'd dragged them onto every one of said "Summit" rides. He failed as a thrill-seeker in her eyes, and she shot him a deadly glower for it.

Freddie took this to just be an expectant glare. So, his eyes darting around wildly, he tried to think back to the day before. For some reason, it was all a blur of adrenaline, as if he'd spent the whole day fighting with Sam, though he knew for a fact he hadn't. "Uh…" he stuttered just before Sam rolled his eyes and pushed him out of the way.

"Out of the spotlight, Fredduccini—mama's got this." Standing directly in front of the worker, Sam put her hands on her hips self-assuredly and answered, in what seemed to be her most bored tone ever, ""Lunar Summit," "Wave Summit," and "Lightning Summit Runaway Train Express.""

"Right you are, extremely threatening young lady!" The Dingo employee reached out to pat Sam on the head in congratulations, but midway to completing the deed, decided against it, pulling his hand back to safety. "Your dinner reservations are at six!" he said, handing the blonde a card. "Just hand that to the check-in counter and they'll get you seated. "The Buffalo Burial Ground" is located right past "Dingo Dino Land"! You can't miss it!"

"Hey!" Spencer laughed, beaming proudly as he lightly punched the blonde playfully in the arm. "Go Sam!"

Sam grinned punching him back much harder, but still playfully. "Thanks, Spence."

"Agh!" he cried, gripping his arm and keeping up his smile to the best of his abilities. "You're—" he whimpered. "You're welcome."

"Sam knows her roller coasters," Carly stated, patting Sam affectionately on her shoulder. Somehow, she knew her friend's knowledge of all things thrill invoking would pay off one day.

Freddie nodded. "About as well as she knows her food." It wasn't clear if this was meant to be an insult or not, but Sam surely didn't take it as such. Her grin merely widened and she bobbed her head in agreement.

"Okay, you kids have a magical day!" the worker smiled. "And remember, if you ever need to buy anything just visit one of the many—"

"Get out of here, you money-hogging platypus!" roared Sam. And with a yelp of fear, the staff member jumped back into the bushes from which he came.

The brunette turned slowly to face her odd blonde friend, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "Platypus?"

Sam shrugged in return. "His face looked like a duck's bill."

"Then," she paused, eyes shifting to the upper right. "Why not just call him a duck?"

The blonde web comedian scoffed humorlessly and shook her head. "Where's the fun in that?" Ducks were far overplayed in the mind of Sam Puckett.

Laughing, Carly too shook her head. Sam definitely was puzzling. No one ever knew exactly what she was thinking or why she did most of the things that she did, but that was really what made the blonde who she was. If she weren't unpredictable, she wouldn't be Sam.

Suddenly, music filled the area. "_Be my bad boy, be my man, be my weekend lover, but don't be my friend. You can be my bad boy, but understand that I don't need you in my life again…_"

Sam raised an eyebrow in curiosity and disbelief. "What was _that_?"

Carly's eyes widened in astonishment. "My cell phone!" she cried as she fished it out of her pocket. Looking up, she laughed nervously under her brother's now-scrutinizing gaze.

"Why is that your ringer?" questioned Spencer, voice devoid of all cheer. He found nothing funny about his little sister having a ring tone all about her love of bad boys. He wouldn't have been happy if it were about "boys" period, even if they weren't of the "bad" variety. This just wasn't the kind of thing older brothers liked to think about.

"'Cause bad boys are hot," Sam answered bluntly (causing Freddie to glare for some reason—which in-turn caused Carly to smile) as she shrugged. Standing on her tiptoes to look over her best friend's shoulder, she asked, "Who would be calling you now?"

Carly stared at the numbers on the screen, baffled. "It's Wendy," she replied slowly, opening the phone and lifting it to her ear. "Hey, Wendy. What's up?"

"Carly! Hi!" called Wendy excitedly, yet her tone while happy was slightly hysterical. "Look, there's some weird lady walking down my block, knocking on doors asking if we have a cheap way to get out to Florida. She says her son's out there. I think it's Benson's mom, Carly."

"Freddie's mom?" she asked with wide eyes, her face frozen in shock. In fact, her face was so frozen that her mouth was barely able to move to form the words she spoke.

"Yeah!" confirmed Wendy. "She had these crazy wide eyes and was walking all tense like her legs were made out of wood or something. Looked to me like she meant bid-ness. "

The brunette's face slowly and robotically turned to face Freddie as if silently informing him that the conversation she was now having did indeed involve him. And as if fear was some sort of contagious disease, Freddie's complexion, too, altered with fright.

"We got her to go away by saying we didn't speak English, but she's asking _everyone_ to help her. You're still out there on that vacation the Dingo Channel gave you, right?"

Carly stiffly nodded before she realized that Wendy couldn't see her through the phone. Without changing her expression, she let out a faint, "Ah-huh," in prayers that the redhead on the other line heard her.

"Well at the rate she's working, I think you should start preparing for one more down there." Silence lingered as the brunette's mind processed the idea that Mrs. Benson was on the move. She had their location, and now she was coming for them. They had to do something—they had to do something fast. For some reason, to Carly, having Marissa Benson find the children seemed to equal the end of the world. "Carly?" asked Wendy in concern. "Are you still there?"

"Yeah," she replied weakly, snapping back to reality. "Thanks, Wendy." Clapping her phone shut, the younger Shay stared off into the distance, the look of horror still etched into her features.

After a couple of moments of quiet passed, Sam shrugged and slowly questioned, "What?"

"Freddie!" yelled Carly suddenly. This outburst caused everyone in the area to jump, even a poor random family who had nothing to do with the group whatsoever. They quickly raced off as Carly continued to shout in a tone that sounded near inhuman. "Where's that chip you've been working on?!"

"H-here," he stuttered as he retrieved the device from his pocket. Freddie had never witnessed Carly being so scared, as well as being so scary at the same time.

"Is it complete?!"

"W-What?"

"DOES THE STUPID THING WORK?"

Freddie slowly began shuffling his way to hide behind Sam, gulping in fear all the while. "Yes," he answered as he made his way behind the blonde.

Keeping her eyes on Carly, Sam questioned in hushed tones, "Hey-hey, what are you doing? What are you _doing_?"

"She's your best friend, she won't kill you," he whispered back as Carly's hand flew at him as a viper lunges at a mouse when it's going in for the kill.

The technical producer literally jumped in shock as the brunette grabbed the duplicate chip from his hand. Rushing quickly to the bushes, she yelled, "Creepy quiz guy who hides in bushes!"

"Yes?" asked the fearful Dingo employee as his head peeked out from the shrubbery.

"Take this and hand it to all of your friends!" she shouted, throwing the chip at his head.

"Uh, okay?" the worker responded as he caught the contraption, nearly falling back from the force of the brunette's voice.

"NOW!"

"Okay!" And then he disappeared, leaving a huffing Carly to turn back to her friends.

No one spoke to the brunette for a while. In fact, no one spoke at _all_ until they reached "Dingo Dino Land". By that point, everyone had gone back to normal—Carly was once again calm, Spencer was once again bouncy and thinking of random things, and Sam and Freddie were once again itching to comment on one another in some way, shape, or form.

And much to the surprise of…well, there had to be at least _one_ person who was surprised—Freddie was the one to start, this time. "Look, Sam," he addressed, smirking smugly as he nodded towards the "Dingo Dino Land" area. "You're right where you belong—with cave people."

Glaring, Sam swiveled her head towards Freddie while reaching for something from the vendor stand that was located behind them. His haughty disposition stayed with him as the act was done, and he was completely surprised when the tiny bat Sam had grabbed crashed down on his head.

"Agh!" he cried in pain.

"Oonga doonga, dork," she growled, tossing the bat back to the stand.

"Ooh!" Spencer called, pointing to a ride that was a couple of yards away. "The Dino Whirl! Let's go on it!"

Carly frowned. "I don't know," she murmured. Something about the ride just gave the brunette a bad feeling. But she couldn't pinpoint what. Unfortunately for her, her brother knew just how to work her over.

"You get to see animatronic dinosaurs in it," he sang as he leaned down to nudge her in the ribs.

The web show host's eyes lit up at this. "Ooh, okay!" she beamed happily as she began to speed-walk towards the building in which the ride was housed. "Come on, guys! Let's—"

"Yeah, I'm not going on that," interrupted Sam with a shake of her head.

"—Never go on that ever," Carly ended sheepishly, now looking timid as she took three quick steps backwards, away from the ride. If _Sam_ didn't want to go on a ride, you _knew_ there had to be something major wrong with it.

"I've heard bad things about that ride," Sam confirmed with a nod.

"What's the matter, Puckett?" Freddie asked slyly as he sauntered in front of Sam. His self-assured smirk had return, but was now coupled with another odd feature—it now appeared that Freddie was chewing something. Anyone could easily recognize this as Freddie Benson's "bad boy" face. But why he was using it now, Sam didn't know—though she was the only one in the dark on this point. He shot a nod to the blonde and raised his eyebrows challengingly. "Scared?"

Yes, everyone else knew exactly what Freddie was doing, except Sam and possibly Freddie himself. Spencer smiled encouragingly at him, and Carly watched anxiously to see Sam's reaction knowing that, while this was cute, it was never a good idea to accuse Sam Puckett of being scared.

Sam responded by letting her hands snake to her hips as she shot a piercing glare at Freddie. "What's the matter, Benson?" she questioned, voice oozing with venom. "Stupider than ever before?"

Freddie stood up straight, looking down his nose at Sam as he crossed his arms, smiling in jubilation. "I can't believe it. Sam Puckett scared of a little roller coaster."

"First of all, no," Sam stated, rolling her eyes. "Second of all, that's not what that ride is. Trust me. And third, uh, look who's talking, Fredtonio. Just yesterday you were crying for mommy when I dragged you on "Lunar Mountain.""

The technical producer's smile transformed into a pride-wounded glare. "I did not!" he yelled, but suddenly his grin returned. "You know what? I'm not gonna let you ruin this for me. Come on, Spence—let's go on that ride." As he and Spencer began to walk off, Freddie shouted back behind him, "Let it be known that on this day, I, Freddie Benson, proved to be braver than Sam Puckett!"

Carly stood on the sidelines, frowning in disappointment as she watched Freddie carry out this act. With a deep sigh and a shake of her head, the brunette made her way to a bench so that she could wait for the boys for when they got off the ride. "She really does make him act his age," she mused. "Too bad that boys at his age are complete jerks."

Glaring, Sam called back, "And let it _also_ be known that on this day, you, Freddie Benson, became the stupidest nerd on the planet!" She was met with no answer as Spencer and Freddie disappeared into the building. She nodded sure of herself, still staring at the spot from which they vanished as thunder sounded overhead. "Congratulations, nubwad!"

It had begun raining shortly after Sam made her claim. And true to her word, when the boys returned, they were both sick as dogs from the ride they went on. "It wasn't a roller coaster," Spencer murmured, shaking his head. But even that simple movement proved to be too much for him as he gripped his skull, his shiny new migraine beating his thought processes to a pulp. "So much spinning and head-bumping," he groaned.

Carly frowned, hugging her older brother. It really was unfortunate. Spencer truly had been just an innocent bystander, sucked into Freddie's need to for once triumph Sam, and his fate to forever fail.

Sam didn't speak to Freddie all night until dinner came around. They had just received their food in "The Buffalo Burial Ground" and it looked delicious. Though everyone was willing to bet that it didn't look quite so delicious to Freddie Benson, who turned green at the sight of it and began silently moaning through his stomach pains. As Sam was about to take her first bite of the rare African-style steak she'd ordered, she threw down her fork with an almost inaudible sigh. "Come on," she grumbled as she yanked Freddie out of his chair.

"Where are we going?" he asked, panting already, weak from his self-inflicted sickness.

"Outside," the blonde said plainly as she directed him out the door of the restaurant. "The fresh air will help."

"But it's all—" Freddie huffed, just before realizing exactly what he was looking at. "—Humid outside…" he finished lamely. It was, in fact, not humid, but rather raining again. Luckily for them, they were standing underneath the restaurant's awning, or they would have been drenched. And with the rain came the cool. Sam threw him a condescending glare, which he shied away from, his eyes landing somewhere in the distance instead. As he took a deep breath, letting his eyes slip closed in relaxation, his head instantly felt much better. His stomach, however… "I'm gonna throw up," he cautioned, his eyes flying open.

Sam shrugged from the seat she'd taken on a bench that was meant for guests who were waiting to be seated. "So? There are bushes right there for ya."

"I can't throw up in some bushes!" Freddie protested concernedly, sensing that his time was quickly running out. He began looking around rapidly trying to find anywhere else that was possibly suitable to vomit. He didn't have the time to run back inside to the bathroom, and the longer he sat in contemplation, the less options he had.

"I'll make sure no one sees you, relax!" Sam commanded jumping to her feet and hurrying over. "Get to those bushes _now_, boy."

Completely in desperation and having no other choice, Freddie did as Sam said. And just in time, too. As soon as Freddie reached the shrubs, he forced out whatever he had in his system. And just as she said, Sam kept watch, making sure no one saw him or did anything to him in that time. Immediately after he was done, Sam reached down and helped him get up from the floor and led him back to the bench she sat on before. It was harder to grip Freddie up than it once had been. And for good reason—the boy had gotten much bigger in the last year. But it was no problem for Sam—everyone knew that she had strength to spare. "Feeling weaker than normal, huh, Benson?" the blonde asked as she plopped down next to the tech producer.

Instead of answering with some snide remark, Freddie just nodded. He was far too weak to argue at the moment. And he was also far too embarrassed that Sam had been completely right. Had he just listened to her, the whole ordeal would've been avoided.

Sam frowned from beside him. She knew she was right, and while part of her was relishing in that fact, another part of her hated seeing Freddie the way he was. And not only because she'd just watched him throw up. "Do I even need to say it?" she asked.

"You told me so," Freddie completed for her, with another nod at the rainy, dark sky ahead of him.

There was a moment where all that could be heard was the pitter-pattering of the heavy falling rain. Out there alone, they were humanized. Out there, they were only Sam and Freddie. They weren't the bickering sidekicks—weren't the aggressive blonde, and the cocky technical producer. They were simply Sam and Freddie; simply two people who cared about each other. And Sam realized this as she scooted closer to Freddie and, after thinking her next move over for a few seconds, put her arm around him, resting her right hand on his right arm. "Ah, Fredweird," she sighed. "You see what you make me do?"

"That's okay," he shrugged, lowering his eyes before finally looking into hers. "It's not like I wouldn't do the same for you, you know." It was silent for a moment until Freddie continued. "I'm sorry for being such a jerk back there," he mumbled. "I deserved this for how I acted."

"Yeah," Sam nodded in agreement. "You did. " But then, purely on instinct, she leaned her head into his shoulder. "It's cool, though. Not like I haven't done some pretty messed up things to you, too. So, you know, like they say, this, too, shall pass."

"Right," Freddie nodded, turning his face to Sam's blonde hair. He was just about to place a kiss on her head when he realized what he was doing, and decided then to just turn to stare straight ahead of him. Sighing in unison, they sat that way for what felt like an immeasurable amount of time. Not because it was too long, and not because it was too short—just because it was simply immeasurable.

"Aww! Look! They're hugging!" called the familiar voice of the elder Shay sibling.

Suddenly, Sam's right arm whipped back and shoved Freddie against the side of the bench harshly. Angrily, the blonde yelled, "So listen to me next time, nubbreath!" Standing and thrusting her hands into her shorts' pockets, Sam turned to Carly and Spencer. "Are we getting back to the hotel now or what?"

"Uh, yeah," Carly responded quickly wiping what she hoped wasn't an uncontainable grin off her face.

"Good!" she called as she began to stomp her way off, trying to force down the blush that was quickly rising to her cheeks, and the feelings that she wished she were never forced to admit existed.

Slowly, Freddie, too, stood, and as if in some sort of trance, he began trudging after Sam through the rain, very much resembling a zombie at the moment.

Spencer blinked in confusion and turned to his once again beaming sister. "What the heck did we miss?"

--

**AN: My god that was a long one XD Now, there weren't many references in this one except for Zoo Nation equaling Animal Kingdom. Oh yes, and "Dingo Dino Land" equaling "Dino Land USA," which always seemed like a stupid name to me anyway, haha. Oh AND the "Summit" rides which equal "Space Mountain," "Splash Mountain," and "Big Thunder Mountain Railroad," in that order. But yep. Hope you guys enjoyed this one =D Oh, and the references in the last chapter were: Mystic Nation/Magic Kingdom, "The World Ain't So Big"/"It's A Small World," "Ninjas of the Bay"/"Pirates of the Caribbean," "ARG Sensei's Ninja-Style Tacos and Taco Salads"/"El Pirata y El Perico de Restaurante" (but who the heck's gonna know that one. I didn't expect anyone to get it. But we ate there, so I decided to find some way to include it =D,) "Lunar Summit"/"Space Mountain," "Firerina"/"Cinderella," "Thrill Town"/"Adventure Land," and "Future Town"/"Tomorrow Land." Congrats to J5J5J5BrittanyJ5J5J5 who spotted all the references! Here's your cookie! –throws you a cookie- And that's all for now! Until then, folks, until then. (I doubt ANYONE'S gonna know where I got that from XD)**

**-Fictions**


	7. Chapter 7

Summary: As an apology from the Dingo Channel, the iCarly gang has been given a free trip to Chuck Dingo World—the Most Magical Place on Earth. What could happen to them there—romance, adventure, hilarity? The answer is all of the above. SEDDIE.

Disclaimer: By Mrs. Benson claiming that she owns Freddie because he is her son, she is committing copyright infringement, because as stated, he belongs to Sam. Now, if I said I own iCarly or Charles Dingo, I, too, would be committing copyright infringement. But I'm not. Because I know that Dan Schneider owns those things.

iGo to Dingo World: Chapter 7

Everyone was able to rest much easier knowing that Freddie's duplicate chip was now on the move, probably passing hands every five seconds. It was possible the device was even out of the parks by now. Everyone had been able to fall asleep easier just because of this thought. Well, all except for Sam and Freddie.

He knew she was still awake because of her lack of movement. And she knew _he_ was awake because of his excess of movement. It was downright ironic how the two of them worked. They were always so opposite each other, even in the way they slept.

It was one in the morning when Freddie finally decided to pipe up. "Sam?" he asked quietly, almost hoping that she hadn't heard his voice.

"Fredweird?" the girl in question replied. Her voice was dry and scratchy from lack of use.

"I—um—" The tech producer stuttered, trying to think of what exactly he was trying to say. Yes, he'd worked up the courage to talk to Sam after their little event outside the "The Buffalo Burial Ground" (this was the first thing to spark between them resembling a conversation since then,) but Freddie had no idea of what he actually wanted to tell Sam. "I was acting like a real jerk back there and—"

"Uch," Sam groaned in annoyance as she rolled over onto her back, face whipping to her right to face Freddie. "What are you doing—making up for all the times you never said "sorry" before? I get it! You're forgiven! Now go to sleep, dork!"

"Shh!" pleaded the technical producer in a whisper. "Not so loud—you'll wake up Carly and Spencer!"

"Hey, good idea," smirked the blonde. "Wanna do a segment of "Wake-Up Spencer"?"

"Sam," Freddie reprimanded, his eyebrows lowering into a glare. "I'm being serious, here!"

"So am I! Come on—" Sam grinned, sitting up and causing the covers to ruffle. "—I know you've got your camera with you. What's stopping us? Let's go do "Wake-Up Spencer"!"

Freddie's glare deepened. Why couldn't she be serious when he needed her to be? "Not unless we want to add a bonus "Wake-Up Carly" to the segment."

"Hey, that's an awesome idea!" Sam beamed, excited now. She didn't even care about how loud she was speaking, or the fact that she had just complimented Freddie. "This way we can have the whole iCarly team in the bit!"

"_Sam_."

"All right! Fine! Sheesh." With a disgruntled sigh, Sam slipped back into the covers, once again turning away from the tech producer. Freddie had been lying on his back with his hands behind his head, and he glanced over at her in disappointment. "You're such a stick in the mud, Benson."

He had tried to be much less "stick in the mud"ish earlier, but it had resulted in not only his illness, but also in Sam's annoyance. Now, acting more mature had resulted in Sam's annoyance and the inevitable fact that she would pummel Freddie in her sleep. The truth was, there was no way to win with Sam. But he had to try. It was now that he realized just what he wanted to talk to her about. "Sam, were you really angry with me when we left the restaurant?"

No answer came from the mass under the sheets next to him. Sam didn't want to have to think back to that moment, because she knew that nothing could ever come of that, despite how much a part of her wanted something to. Sure, Freddie hadn't "put any moves" on Carly in a long time, but that didn't mean that his feelings weren't still there. In fact, it was inevitable that they _were_ still there. And as much as it burned her up inside—caused an irrational fire to roar up inside of her whenever he hit on her best friend, she much preferred that to this calm, new, deceptive Freddie, in a way. Because now that he had lightened up—now that he had "moved on," and had learned to be aloof, there was even the slightest chance that Carly _would_ notice him, and _would _fall for him. It was a known fact to humanity that everyone wants what he or she can't have. And if Carly were to think she couldn't have Freddie, then…

Sam was wrong about this, of course. Freddie was not acting. He had simply given up on his boyish fantasy of being with Carly. What was true was that Freddie Benson, over the course of the last year, grew up. Just one day one epiphany led to another, and another, and the tech producer realized that he couldn't waste his life away pining for someone who didn't feel the same way for him. And then, another epiphany—what _did_ he feel for Carly? Yes, when he was eleven, he thought she was pretty. When he was thirteen, he thought she was perfect, despite her attempts to prove to him that he was wrong. But on that day, he realized after really thinking his friendship with Carly over, that it had been nothing but an obsession—an infatuation and a boyish crush. He still did make the occasional joke about this old obsession because now, he truly did consider it downright laughable. But no one was ever really able to understand that, except for Spencer, and at times, Carly (though she still seldom did have her doubts.) His mother still believed he was "in love" with the brunette, and he wasn't sure _what_ exactly Sam thought. They were odd, he and Sam. At times, they'd be so in sync that it was scary—they'd practically read each other's thoughts. But then there were times when they were completely clueless with each other. "Sam, I know you're awake. And I'll answer "how" now. It's because you're not beating the stuffing out of me."

This was not good—not for her. Sam was backed into a corner. She hated being trapped in corners she couldn't fight her way out of. So, she merely asked, "Huh?"

Freddie's glare made an encore appearance. "And I know you _heard_ me, too. This room's not exactly deafening."

And there she saw it—her way out of this conversation. "Gee, is it? I wonder why that is, Fredwardo! Maybe because everyone's trying to _sleep_!" She knew that she couldn't avoid this conversation forever. Something had to be said—something had to be done. But it didn't have to be done at this moment. That was the problem, though. Sam was a horrible procrastinator. And so was Freddie, on this subject as well. And they kept pushing back that talk time and time again. It was never "the time." But the universe kept throwing clues at them that it _was_. They would never admit to that, though. So they kept running from those clues. The only problem was that those clues had been steadily catching up to them. "So why don't you do everyone a favor and conform."

His eyes rolled as she flopped back on her back, eyes already shut. "Not until _you're_ asleep."

"Aww, so you can watch me in the dark? Maybe stare at Carly a little?" She shook her head lazily. "You're such a creep, nubbreath."

"No," Freddie barked as he kept up his glower. "I stay awake because if I fall asleep before you do, then you'll end up punching and kicking me to death before I have the time to react."

Sam's eyes rolled behind her lids. "Fine, go, be mama's little snowflake."

"Snowflake?" he asked, his voice climbing in confusion.

"Unique? Snowflakes? Aren't you supposed to be the smart one here?" Another compliment unnoticed. "Sheesh, Benson."

But now something else struck him. Sam often referred to herself as "mama." A soft blush crept onto Freddie's cheeks as he questioned, "Wait, when you say "_mama's_ little snowflake"—?"

Her eyes flashed open, eyebrows lowered in rage. "I meant your _own_ mother this time!" After a minute of silence and awareness, Sam let her eyes drift closed again, trying to settle into slumber.

"Snowflake," Freddie commented, scoffing as his eyes returned to the ceiling. "Who even _says_ that? Honestly, that has to be one of the worst references you've ever made. I mean, I thought porcupine was bad, and platypus, but _snowflake_? Really, Sam, you're off your—" A hand was strategically clamped over the tech producer's mouth and nose. After struggling for a while, he managed to pry the strong hand away. "What are you trying to do—kill me?!"

"Benson, if that's what it takes to shut you up, I'm all for it," mumbled Sam, obviously forcing herself to submit to the call of sleep that seemed to just skip over her that night.

So, in annoyance and fear of another strangulation attempt, Freddie decided to respect Sam's wishes and let her get to sleep. And of course, more senseless beating occurred, however, there was no rest for Freddie on this night. Considering it had taken Sam some time to get to sleep in the first place, she was not able to tucker herself out by the time five in the morning rolled around. The fighting ensued, and Freddie remained sleepless. She had only stopped around fifteen minutes before they were to wake.

"Freddie, you look horrible!" Carly had claimed upon waking up to find Sam and Freddie once again facing each other.

Freddie, however, was not afraid of this fact on this day. And he did not turn. He just stared at Sam murderously. Even while the blonde's eyes fluttered open, and he spoke to Carly, his eyes remained on Sam. "I would probably look better if I wasn't being wailed on all night."

"Wha-hoa!" Spencer called, shooting up from the bed. "Keep it PG, Freddo."

Everyone stared at the artist incredulously as Carly responded, "Sam…fights in her sleep, Spencer. Remember?"

"Oh!" The elder Shay's cheeks turned bright red in embarrassment. "I thought—…I miss the privacy of my own home." A long, awkward silence filled the air. "I'm gonna go get changed." And Spencer hurried off into the bathroom carrying with him a pile of clean clothes.

Sam resumed the previous conversation. "You were the one who kept me up late!" she shouted. And then, even Carly could see where her brother was coming from with his speculation.

"Yeah," Freddie nodded, still far too aggravated to just let whatever happened go. "And a great goodnight I got from you, too—"I'll kill you if I have to, Freddie." Nice!"

"Right! "If I _have to_,"" reminded Sam. "But I didn't! So I don't understand why you're so mad right now, Fredduccini."

"Threatening someone's life and then beating them the entire night doesn't usually leave people in the best of moods, Sam!" he called back, an angry vein in his neck becoming very visible when he did. "I don't see why you don't get that! Why do you have to be so weird?"

It was now that Carly reached for the spray bottle/fan she had purchased, only to remember that she had housed it in the bathroom for the night. Spencer was currently occupying that area of the room, so using that was out of the question. So she reached for the ice bucket instead. But she found it empty—she had been so relaxed the night before that she forgot to grab more ice cubes for their room. Defenseless, Carly shrieked, arms outstretched at her sides. "Okay, I don't have anything to force you guys to stop, so I'm just gonna yell at you! Stop fighting, you two!"

"No!" they turned to the brunette, shouting in unison. "He's/She's wrong about this!" And so, the fighting continued, much to Carly's displeasure.

With bickering as her background music a now less frightened and nervous, but more angered and irritated Carly made her way to the back of the room with the empty ice bucket. After working with the sink for a moment, the brunette trudged back to her still-fighting friends. You can imagine Sam and Freddie's surprise when they were suddenly drenched in ice-cold water. "You have to get changed anyway!" Carly shouted through their complaints. "Now stop fighting and get ready! I am _not _going to miss our reservations for today!" The night before it had been decided that the group would be visiting the It's A Tiny Globe Nation park, which featured a World Showcase—where the park was divided into different sections dedicated to different countries. "We are going to be eating lunch in Japan and we are going to be eating dinner in France and we are going to _like it_! Now, move!"

Spencer emerged fully clothed from the bathroom as Sam and Freddie grudgingly began getting ready. But before he had the chance to comment on Carly's psychotic appearance, she lifted the bucket, eyes still wild.

"If you think this bucket is empty—" she threatened. But then her look dropped for a moment. "Okay, you'd be right," she shrugged, the look sliding back into place. "But I can still hit you with it!"

Frowning, Spencer took a seat on his and Carly's bed, sighing before he spoke. "This place really isn't good for you, is it?" At this moment, the elder Shay was completely serious. While Spencer was often zany and childish, he knew when and how to be serious—he knew how to be the caring parental figure Carly needed.

"What do you mean?" she asked somberly, lowering the bucket as well as her insane expression.

"Well," the sculptor began, rubbing the back of his neck. His eyes strayed from his sister as he searched for a way to carefully word what he wanted to say. "In case you haven't noticed, you've been getting crazier each day." Obviously his search proved to be a failure. Carly quickly lifted the bucket back up and Spencer held out his hands in plea. "Not joking here! Just trying to help!" Ducking his head down and closing his eyes, he repeated, "Not joking!"

Looking from the bucket in her hands to her cowering brother, Carly's expression once again softened. "I guess you're right," she mumbled ashamedly. After placing the bucket on the table, she took a seat next to Spencer on the bed, leaning on him. "I don't know what's doing it to me," she frowned. "It's not you, Sam, or Freddie, because I'm around you guys all the time back home. And I'm never _this_ bad."

"You're just frustrated," Spencer shrugged. "I mean, we've got Freddie's mom chasing us across the country and Freddie and Sam making such progress and then erasing it all because they're stubborn—" Luckily, both Sam and Freddie had been locked in their own world of annoyance at this point, so neither of them heard this conversation.

"You see it, too?" Carly asked in a shocked whisper. "I thought you didn't understand."

The brunette's older brother grinned. "Hey, I'm crazy, not blind." This prompted a laugh out of both himself and Carly and he playfully nudged her in the ribs. "The point is, you need to relax. Mrs. Benson's been deterred for at least a couple of days, right? And Sam and Freddie aren't your problem. It's your vacation! You earned it!" He poked her in the nose. "Enjoy it, missy!"

A frown settled on her lips, though. "But if I don't push Sam and Freddie, nothing will happen between them." She shrugged hopelessly. "Ever. It'll just be the same thing over and over again—flirting, fighting, flirting, fighting."

Spencer shook his head. "Carly, you're not Cupid. Stop trying to be. If something's meant to happen, it'll happen on its own. Trust me—I'm your older brother!" He once again poked her, now in the shoulder, beaming again. "I know these things!"

With an uncertain sigh, Carly gave up her argument, silently praying that something _was_ meant to happen with her two friends. She would try to stay uninvolved as her brother said, she was still so nervous about them! The idea of letting them go about this on their own frightened her, as if she were a mother leaving her children off to go to school for the first time.

The artist knew his sister's concerns—he could feel her apprehension radiating from her. But this was something that, though she held no joy in doing it, just had to be done. She couldn't always guide her two seemingly misguided friends. It wasn't healthy for either of them. Patting her on the shoulder, Spencer picked up the complimentary Dingo doll and had it dance in front of Carly, as he hummed, "Doo-doo-doo!" all the while, just to take her mind off things. Sure she rolled her eyes at him, but at least he got her to smile. That was worth it.

Spencer spent the rest of the day working his hardest to keep Carly's attention. He needed to keep her laughing and happy and he swore that he would do anything it took to do that. Including getting chased by ducks in the park that day. Okay, so maybe that wasn't quite intentional, but it still worked! And he continued to pitifully flirt with one of the waitresses in "Japan" while they ate lunch. And, all right, maybe that one was more for him and didn't really make Carly laugh as much as get embarrassed. But still, her mind was off worry, so it was productive.

"Konnichiwa!" he greeted the waitress, Tsukari. "O-genki desu ka?"

"Oh!" Tsukari beamed when she noticed that he, at least knew basic Japanese greetings. It was always nice to see a tourist who knew more than how to take pictures or unintentionally insult her culture. "Hai! Genki desu!" Checking the room key Spencer had used to pay for the meal with, she asked, "Shay-san wa?"

Spencer stared blankly, a clueless smile still plastered on his face. "O-genki desu ka?" he asked again. But this caused Tsukari to laugh. While Spencer's actual trip to Japan apparently proved to be useless, and he proved to just be another tourist, Tsukari found him especially cute. And if it were not for the fact that he most likely did not live in the area, she would have asked him out on a date. What Tsukari didn't know was that Spencer was used to never seeing his dates again after their first time out. Still, everything was more or less peaceful with the group that day…

…Until dinner came around in "France." Everything was going fine until dessert was served. The whole table had ordered crème brulee, and while Carly had been excitedly chatting with the waitress, Julie, in French that the brunette was fluent in because of her schooling, an argument broke out amongst the table. Julie was just a little older than Carly, and was from Rouen, France. They had really hit it off and had even exchanged screen names so that they could keep in touch once they left Dingo World. But whilst this friendship was being formed, catastrophe waited around the corner.

"There is a handprint in my crème brulee!" cried Spencer. "Why is there a _handprint_ in my--…and is that a _bird _footprint?" The artist's eyes went wide as he gasped, throwing his hands frantically up to his face. "The ducks!" Looking over his shoulder to the long window that rested behind him, the artist jumped to find a duck quacking incessantly and waddling away outside. He screamed. "Your chef is working for those horrible water fowl!"

"Hey!" Freddie yelled. "There's a shoeprint in mine!"

"Oh, that one was me," called Sam nonchalantly as she cracked the shell of her dessert with her spoon and dug in. "Wow, this stuff is really good! You do good work, Julie girl."

Julie took a break from her conversation with Carly to bow her head in gratitude. "Merci, madam."

"Sam!" scolded Freddie, trying to bring her back to the seriousness of the situation. "This stuff is expensive!"

"So?" Sam scoffed. "You're not the one who's paying for it. That's Spencer's job." Fortunately, Spencer was too busy being paranoid and glaring at every duck that passed by the long window to be offended by that statement.

Freddie groaned. "That's not the point!"

"Then why'd you bring it up?"

"_Because_—…No, you know what?" Freddie let his spoon hit his plate and it clanked as it knocked into both it and the table. The chair squealed as he pushed it away. "Enjoy your dessert. I'll be outside." And then he left.

Sam, mid-shoveling more of the custard into her mouth, watched Freddie leave, her hand still frozen to the handle of the spoon that stuck out of her gob. Julie and Carly were awestruck—Spencer would have been, too, had his attention not currently been occupied—and Sam needed no second word. She was up and out the door.

Freddie had practically thrown himself down onto the edge of the fountain that lay outside of the French restaurant. The water was so entrancing, though, that it instantly stole his attention, as well as his anger. It was as if the babbling of the fountain were really soothing words, or an overpowering spell. He didn't even realize when someone else had joined him on the edge.

"Hey," called Sam.

"Hey," he murmured in return, eyes caught on the water shooting out of the fountain.

Sam grimaced. "I'm sorry I stepped in your crème brulee. I didn't eat much of mine—you can have it, if you want."

Freddie completely overlooked the fact that Sam was offering him her food. Sam Puckett just offered him food. She _never_ did that. _Ever_. "Nah. Honestly, I don't really like French food. I just bought the crème brulee because—" he shrugged. "—We all had to buy dinner _and_ dessert for the meal to be covered." Truth be told, Sam was happy that a big deal wasn't being made about her offer.

"But," Sam's face scrunched in confusion as she scoffed. "Aren't you part French or something?"

"That doesn't mean I have to like the food, Sam," he laughed. "You're lucky it's me you're talking to." Freddie gave a crooked smile as he shoved the blonde playfully. "Anyone else probably would've been offended by that."

"Yeah, well, just like I don't care if I offend you, I would care even less if I offended someone else," she grinned. She was kidding, and he knew that. The fact that she was out there alone said that she did in fact care if she upset his feelings. But neither of them would comment on that. "S'a nice fountain," Sam said, nodding to the water that now had her captivated as well. She swirled her finger in the pool of water absently as his eyes now focused on her.

With the setting sun shining on her and her blue eyes glistening, glassy from her dreamy gaze, she looked almost angelic. "Yeah," murmured Freddie. "The fountain." His voice trailed off as _she_ captivated him.

At this moment, Sam looked up. "What?" she asked in puzzlement at Freddie's blank expression.

His face reddened when he realized that he had been staring. "Uh," his mouth opened and closed continuously as he searched for something to say.

Sam's look of confusion slowly transformed into a self-confident smirk as she let her hand brush into the rapidly flowing water and splashed some right into Freddie's face. "Wake up, nerd!"

"Hey, Sam!" he laughed as he flinched from the liquid, shaking it off before reaching his own hand in and splashing the blonde next to him. "How's that, Sam, huh?" And he splashed again. "How's that?"

"Oh I know you didn't do that!" giggled Sam.

"Oh, I did!" grinned Freddie. "_And_ what?" A stream of water hit his face causing him to sputter.

"And _that_." She shot him her own grin, triumphing over him in mischievousness as her hand left the flowing water where she had redirected it to fly right after Freddie's complexion.

A water fight broke out from this that left both Sam and Freddie sopping wet. And all was well, until a friendly photographer stepped over. "My goodness, you two are just adorable. I'm sorry," he laughed. "But can I get a picture of you guys? Right in front of the fountain like this, you don't even have to move. I've just never seen a boyfriend and girlfriend in this day and age act like you two." The man shook his head in disbelief. "It's just so…cinematic."

For once, Sam didn't respond first. This time, she looked to Freddie, trying to gauge his reaction. But Freddie took this to mean the wrong thing. Freddie took this to mean that she was speechless and looking for _him_ to say what she "couldn't." "Well it might as well be cinematic!" he yelled shooting up. "'Cause we are _not_ a couple! You've drawn the biggest misconception ever from us, buddy. I can't stand her!" Sam's eyes flashed at this. And there was pain in them. But she didn't know that he was only saying what he thought she wanted to hear. "And she can't stand me."

And at that, Sam leapt up. "You're darn right I can't." With a swift and forceful shove, Freddie landed right in the middle of the fountain, and Sam stomped off toward the bridge that connected "France" and the "United Kingdom." Freddie jumped to his feet gasping for air and choking up water as Carly and Spencer rushed out of the restaurant to help him, having seen the whole thing. And the photographer walked away quickly in shock and embarrassment, picture-less.

Carly knew where Sam had gone. Earlier that day, they had planned to watch the park's famed fireworks display that would go off over the water that all the "countries" surrounded, from a secluded area located just below the middle of said bridge. (There were stairs leading to that area from the side of the bridge.) Once they reached the blonde, they found her rubbing at makeup-streaked cheeks.

Spencer had asked what had happened to cause her makeup malfunction, and she'd passed it off to the humidity. But both Shays knew what had really happened, both Carly and Spencer having witnessed the whole event—minus sound, of course.

The fireworks display was one that was created to enforce the unity of mankind—of all life's creatures. And as the audio played on, and fantastic colors, like magic, lit the sky, Carly stared, her eyes twinkling in enlightenment. "It's like that poem from that game Kingdom Hearts." She nodded with certainty. ""There are many worlds, but they all share the same sky. One sky, one destiny.""

…_One sky, one destiny._

For some reason, Freddie's eyes flashed to Sam at this moment. But he only found her staring down at the water instead of up at the dancing heavens. It looked like she was trying to remain unnoticed. And a frown took over the technical producer's face, one that basically looked sick with guilt. He had yet another thing to apologize for, yet he wasn't even sure what he did wrong.

Spencer noticed as Freddie's hand twitched at his side, reaching out about halfway to Sam's. But she remained unnoticing, though the boy's every blink seemed to let out a more sorrowful apology. He sighed as his eyes went back to the sky. Secretly, though he wished to not get involved in whatever it was Sam and Freddie could be considered as he advised Carly, he, too, prayed that something was meant to happen between them as well. There was still time, and, he hoped, things could only get better, because it seemed that they couldn't possibly get worse.

--

**AN: And there we have Chapter 7. Whoa, that was a long, complicated chapter. Lots of serious stuff going on there, but some comedy, too. Unfortunately, every** **story's gotta have its critical stuff. Hope you enjoyed anyway, though! Oh, and if you're wondering, the It's A Tiny Globe Nation park was meant to be Dingo's version of Disney's Epcot =D Also, the Japanese that was being spoken meant: Spencer: "Good afternoon! Are you well?" Tsukari: "Yes! I am well! And you, Mr. Shay?" XD And of course…Spencer: "…Are you well?! 8D" again.**

**P.S. - Thank you to Panda Hallows for giving me the idea of adding the photographer into the mix! =D I owe you one, girl! ^^ **

**P.P.S. - Here is a picture of the fountain that Sam and Freddie were by. http://image09. webshots. com/9/3/85/77/118338577Thehzw_fs. jpg (just take out the spaces.) I know they were there at sunset, and that picture is of the fountain at night, but the pic was too beautiful to pass up ^^**

**-Fictions**


	8. Chapter 8

Summary: As an apology from the Dingo Channel, the iCarly gang has been given a free trip to Chuck Dingo World—the Most Magical Place on Earth. What could happen to them there—romance, adventure, hilarity? The answer is all of the above. SEDDIE.

Disclaimer: I don't own iCarly or Charles Dingo, though I wish I did…along with platypuses and sea pigs. Unfortunately/Fortunately, those rights go to Dan Schneider. Er…iCarly and Charles Dingo I mean…not…platypuses and sea pigs…

iGo to Dingo World: Chapter 8

By the time that the group got back to the hotel, such an awkward, tense, and guilty atmosphere had been created by Sam and Freddie that no one spoke. It was like a cloud was hanging over the group's head, and anytime anyone came up with an idea of how to break the ice, lightning would strike from that cloud and extinguish the idea immediately.

After Carly had grabbed some more ice for the room, Spencer had gained some inspiration to start a conversation. "It might be hot as heck out there," he beamed, laughing between his words. "But it's _ice cold_ in here!"

No answer came. In fact, Carly was the only one to even look at her brother, casting him a sympathetic smile.

"Get it?" he beamed, looking between the room's inhabitants. "Because Carly just brought ice!" Still no response. "And…this room is just…_so dead_…"

There was no laughter, no snide comments, no groans of exasperation—nothing but pure silence. And Spencer did something that would convey to anyone just how bad the situation was—he went outside to get some cool, fresh air.

But even Carly had to deem her brother's decision logical at this instance. The air was cold and empty yet hot with tension all at the same time. The situation was a paradox all in its own, but then again things that didn't normally seem possible often did occur when both Puckett and Benson were present.

On this particular night, no one spoke to each other. The only sound in the room was made by the television, which only came out as a buzzing in the ears of the group of friends, drowned out in the deafening silence and overflowing thoughts that swam through the room.

Only once both Shays were asleep did any semblance of a conversation arise. Carly and Spencer had both hurried off to dream land, eager to escape the horrid atmosphere spawned by the two sidekicks. But once relative quiet truly held the room—aside from Spencer's light snoring—Freddie finally found the courage to speak. "Sam?" he asked. But even though he knew the girl in question was awake, he also knew that he would be getting no acknowledgment from her. "I wanted to ask—since when did you start fighting in your sleep?"

It was a good question, and she knew exactly when it had started—the minute she started questioning her feelings for Freddie. The blonde never, ever thought much about her feelings for anyone. She still didn't. It just wasn't her. She was the type of person to simply accept things for what they were and not one to look for a reason behind everything. But that one day…_"You know, they say when a girl constantly rips on a guy, it really just means she has a crush on him."_ And of course, she had a snide reply to that. But that one sentence got her to second-guess her feelings, and even though it was only for a moment that she dwelled upon it, it had started it all. From then on, she fought in her sleep, as if she actually was fighting away against something.

"Sam," Freddie pleaded. "Come on, answer me."

A fist stopped just before it reached his skull.

"I know you're awake, Sam," Freddie groaned with a roll of his eyes.

"That doesn't mean I can't punch you in the face, Fredhead." Accepting an exasperated sigh as Freddie's only response, Sam allowed sleep to claim her. And so, she began her nightly fight with her subconscious. Ding, ding, ding—round one.

The teenager watched the web comedian's limbs fly, and he frowned. Sam had told him that her night-by-night struggles left her without strain or wear, but still, he couldn't help but feel that she was lying. The look of pain and exertion—of sadness—that held her features whenever the "fight" was over begged to argue with the blonde's claim. And then, Freddie Benson had a thought.

But no, he couldn't.

And he accepted this limitation until three in the morning, when Freddie was so overtired that he simply acted on his previous instinct, no inhibitions or strings attached. It was probable that the boy _did_ have some sort of death wish.

But while Freddie was off, possibly sealing his fate, Sam dreamed. She was out on the fire escape, the breeze blowing gently as she took a seat on the windowsill, meatball in hand. She offered it to Freddie. It was the first time that they had just been Sam and Freddie, as they had been outside of the restaurant in Zoo Nation. But Sam wasn't _in _the memory—she was merely watching it being played out.

"I was just gonna say—"

"—That _we_ should k—" The word was gargled by static as the image jumped, like film slipping off a reel. In fact, anytime the word was mentioned, it was distorted. The blonde saw the remembrance through up until a promise was made—a vow that not a word of their arrangement would be spoken to anyone. And that he and she would go right back to hating each other after the moment was over. But had they?

As soon as Freddie leaned in, the image flickered, and during those brief moments of static, like one would see on a broken television, Sam glimpsed a horizontal view of the hotel room. The view was only shown for nanoseconds at a time, and before the blonde could ponder why it was she was stationary and not fighting, the dream resumed.

Now she was witnessing a seemingly much younger Freddie, during the time when she and Carly were forced to film the school talent show's applicants. "I didn't know _that_ was gonna be here!" Again the image jumped and blurred as her past self fired back on the young boy. The sound dropped, the scene skipped.

It was her sixteenth birthday party at Carly's house. And it was Freddie's turn to say a few words about Sam. "Even though you cause me both—" Flicker, jump. "—Cause me both physical _and_ emotional pain—" The picture bounced around almost uncontrollably, the sound going out with a pop, until finally returning. The memory was moving normally again, but a line of damage and wear ran down the middle of the "screen" perfectly dividing Freddie down the center. "I think of you and me as really close friends." He smiled, the words sounding so genuine when he spoke them. No one beside Carly had ever spoken so nicely about her and meant it. She would never show that, though. But just as she began her snide comeback, the sound once again dropped. The view of the room flickered in a few times, and then the scene changed again.

Carly's house, the day Missy came back. Freddie was shouting angrily. "That _thing_ is not my friend!" Sam felt her eyes sting as the picture burned away, bubbles being formed in the "film" of her memory. She groaned as the view of the room flickered back into focus quickly. Carly had apparently left the shades open and the sun was pouring through. But sleep pulled her back in. Sam hadn't won the battle for the night yet.

She was now in the halls of Ridgeway. Past Sam was rounding the corner when she heard Wendy speaking to Freddie and Carly. But instead of barging in, she hid to listen.

"You know that School at Sea contest last week?" asked the redhead, her hands full of books.

"Yeah," answered Carly, and as Sam peeked around the corner, she found her grinning at Freddie. Carly was perceptive—she knew he was hiding something.

"Uh, Wendy—!"

"What about it?"

"Uh, bye, Wendy!" Freddie shouted nervously, gesturing for her to leave.

But Wendy ignored his ridiculous motions of anxiety, and sharing Carly's grin responded, "Freddie won it."

"N-No, no I didn't,"

She cast him a raised eyebrow. "Yeah you did."

"No," rebutted Carly. "Missy Robinson won it."

"No, _Freddie_ won it—" Wendy smiled with pride. "—And then he told Principal Franklin that he wanted to give it to Missy." The image jumped uncontrollably, audio vanishing, 'til the redhead had left the scene. The sound only returned once more for that memory.

Carly grinned, knowingly. "You care about Sam."

The picture blurred out as Freddie's words rang on, "Well…she _was_ really upset…"

The new scene skipped into place. It was from earlier that day, at the fountain. "And she can't stand me," stated the teenage boy thickly. But this time, unlike the actual memory, he shouted the words. They overlaid with the original tone in which he spoke. And they repeated over and over again until the memory switched back to the one on the fire escape. The Sam from that time frame was just leaving. "Hey," beamed Freddie. "I hate you."

And she turned back with a humorous scoff and a grin. "Hate you, too," she nodded jovially. And then she continued on her way. But then Sam's vision changed. Now she saw what the version of her playing out the memories saw—the hallway of Bushwell Plaza.

"Wait, Sam," a call came from behind her. But that never happened in reality. Suddenly, she found herself frozen in her place as Freddie raced to meet with her. Instead of positioning himself to see her face, however, he stayed behind her, and wrapped his arms around her middle. "I mean it," he whispered in her ear. "I can't stand you." Flicker—horizontal. Flicker—standing in the hallway once more. But now Freddie was leaning forward, and Sam realized there was another body pressing into her from her front. Raising her eyes, she was a mass of beautiful brunette hair—the hair of her best friend. It was Carly, and she was joined with Freddie at the lips.

"Carly, how could you—?" she began, only to be cut off by Freddie.

Though his lips were currently busying themselves with Carly's, his voice still sounded. "I hate you, Sam." And then a cluster of voices rampaged through Sam's head. A million Freddies stood there, glaring and spitting out insults. "…_that_ was gonna be here!" "…_thing_ is not my friend!" "You're just jealous!" "In your face, Sam." "I'm too smart for you!" But all the voices began sounding at the same time, merging into loud static that rang in her ears. Her breathing picked up—it was labored—she couldn't breath. It was deafening. Why couldn't she breathe? Why couldn't she—?

"ARGH!" She awoke angrily. Sam Puckett had lost the fight. Looking over her body, she saw a hand draped over her waist—his hand. Her teeth went on edge, but her eyes weren't set in anger, just pain—arched in sadness. Her breath and adrenaline racing again, she pushed his hand off her, practically jumping to her feet. "Get off of me, dork!" she growled, and shoved him back so hard that he fell off the bed.

"Agh!" cried Freddie from the floor. "Sam, what is your deal?!"

Carly clambered from the bed to her feet, staring wide-eyed at the situation before her. What had she awoken to? What was going on? How did things instantaneously get that bad?

Spencer had woken up, too, but was hiding fearfully under the covers. The only thing that was revealed was his head from the eyes up. This was a scary fight, he nodded. (It was also the worst wakeup call ever.) But Spencer decided that scary fights—like this one—were no place for him; no place for sculptor extraordinaire, Spencer Shay. No siree bob.

Sam could not stand what had been happening. She could not be trapped like that—she could not _lose_ like that. She had to be alone, to calm herself down, so that she could win—so that she could find a way out. So quickly sweeping her fresh clothes into her arms, she made it to the bathroom in two rapid bounds and locked the door behind her.

Carly was frozen in shock. This was getting out of hand, but it only further exemplified Spencer's point—if something were meant to happen, it would happen on its own. But this _couldn't_ be all that was meant to happen. This couldn't be all her two best friends were meant for.

"She is _insane_!" Freddie yelled, calling the brunette out of her trance as he rubbed and stretched the arm that banged against the wall as he was shoved to the floor.

"No," Carly mumbled lowly, giving a shrug of her shoulders. "She's just—" The web show host paused, searching for the appropriate word for the situation, her eyes wandering to the ceiling as she did. "—Complex."

"Yeah," Freddie scoffed, massaging his arm more intensely. "Well, people _that_ complex are usually living in white rooms with padded walls."

The only thing to go against the chain of negative thoughts and comments was an already-dressed Spencer. The artist, during the awkwardness of the last night, had decided that it would be more efficient to just get dressed and sleep in the clothes he planned to wear for the next day, instead of changing in the morning. Throwing out some obvious fake coughing, he reached for his shoes, gaze pinned to the wall across from him. As slipped on the left sneaker, he yelped. Quickly pulling it off his foot, the artist retrieved the source of his fear. "A chicken leg!" Yes, in his hand rested a leg of fried chicken. The sculptor turned to Carly who was standing at the side of the window, still locked in sadness. "Who would do such a—AH!!"

Carly was thrown out of her stupor and turned around speedily to see what had frightened her brother so. Just outside the window rested a duck, which, upon being spotted by both Shay siblings, turned and waddled away, quacking loudly. "I don't understand. What did you do to make them so angry?" asked the brunette with wide eyes.

"I don't know!" yelled Spencer, throwing his hands in the air. "I just told them some jokes when no one else was listening to me yesterday," he pouted. "Sometimes birds are the only ones you can count on…"

The brunette rolled her eyes, smiling slightly. She knew Spencer was joking. She _had_ been paying attention to him all day, as she was trying to take her mind off of Sam and Freddie's strenuous constant situation.

At this moment, Sam stepped out of the bathroom, miraculously and seemingly back to normal. "Maybe your jokes were so bad they just decided you had to die," she remarked apathetically.

Spencer's eyebrows arched at the statement. "Ow," he whimpered, his hand flying to his chest as if the blonde's comment had actually caused him physical pain.

Carly huffed in frustration, her fingers scrunching her hair and massaging her scalp as she spoke. "Come on, we all have to finish getting ready so we can get to breakfast and then go to the parks."

Freddie didn't respond, still glaring pointedly at Sam when the girl in question shrugged. "Which one are we going to this time?"

"Hollywood Lot," Carly said, actually cracking a smile. "It's got this whole "movie set" feel about it. I wanna try this "Make Your Own Movie" thing they have there—it sounds fun!"

"Cool," Sam agreed bouncing her head from side to side. "Maybe I can make a horror movie where Fredweird dies," she grinned.

"Hah-_hah_," Freddie answered obnoxiously, glower still in place.

"I thought you'd find that funny."

With a shaky look at her brother, who simply shook his head, Carly sighed and stayed out of the argument that was sure to ensue. About two hours later, they had just made it to the Hollywood Lot park and began going on some of the more iconic rides of the area—"The Awesome Show Ride," which actually briefly mentioned iCarly's take-down of "Totally Terry," "Doll Novel's 4D Adventure," and even "The Hotel of Horror."

But, finally after lunch, the group made it to where Carly had _really_ wanted to go—the "Make Your Own Movie Interactive Experience." And the brunette grinned as they got closer on the line towards the warehouse where the event was held.

Freddie, unlike Carly, though, had kept his glare and sour attitude up for most of the day, not even cheering when the rest of them had on "The Awesome Show Ride." If Freddie ever told any of them that he wasn't one to dwell on things, this was evidence enough to prove that that was a lie.

Further ahead by the door, they heard the voice of the Dingo employee—strangely, an all-too-familiar voice with an odd twist. "Oh!" the blonde girl gasped, moving her hand to her red-painted lips. "A Dingo princess!" she called, kneeling. "Your majesty, it is an _honor _to be able to accommodate to your wishes on this day." The girl bowed her head, her ponytail flopping over her face as she did so.

The costumed child giggled, and the worker smiled, standing once more. The little girl's parents, too, joined in the laughter as they picked up their daughter and went inside.

The worker beamed and waved cheerily after them. "Enjoy the show!"

Everyone had been thinking just about the same thing at that point, but Carly's eyes widened as _her_ suspicion was confirmed. "Melanie?" she shouted in surprise.

"Oh yeah," grunted Sam, eyebrows lowered in disinterest and disgust. "Along with the other nauseatingly sweet things she does, she _also_ has a summer job."

The two boys, however, were speechless—Freddie, because he was shocked out of his stupor to learn that Melanie really _did _exist, despite _any_ previous thoughts, and Spencer because he was warily watching out for ducks.

Melanie's smile went impossibly brighter upon catching sight of her sister and friends. "Sam, Freddie, Carly, Spencer! Hi!" she laughed excitedly as she raced to give them each a hug. Neither Sam nor Freddie hugged back, but for different reasons. Freddie was _still_ stuck in surprise, but Sam…well, it was no secret how she felt about her sister.

But seeing Freddie's face, Sam grinned. "Oh, by the way," she boasted. "_I'm_ too smart for _you_, Frederina." After elbowing him sharply in the stomach and thus successfully breaking his shocked stare, she turned back to the main conversation.

"Wow, Mel," Carly smiled friendly. "It's great to see you."

"No it isn't," groaned Sam.

But Melanie just laughed off Sam's comment. She knew that deep down her sister loved her—it was fine if she didn't show it all too often. "It's so great to see you guys, too."

"I didn't know you lived this far out from Seattle," the brunette said, shaking her head.

"Yeah," she nodded rapidly. "I live here with J'Mam-Maw. Last summer, I started working here and I just love it."

"But it's so hot," cringed Carly.

"And there are too many ducks!!" shouted the elder Shay.

The sweet blonde giggled through her response. "Despite all that, I can't imagine being anywhere else. It's just so wonderful and magical here, you know?"

Everyone stared blankly at the twin Puckett in front of them as if she had just grown an extra head. But Melanie's feelings were genuine.

"I guess it's a Dingo thing," she shrugged. "Sam, you should really consider moving out here. It'd be twice the fun with both of us." Melanie spoke the words melodically as she tried to persuade her sister.

But Sam just shook her head, her bored look still in place. "I like not dying from the heat every day, thank you very much."

"Oh, you're welcome," smiled Sam's twin. Apparently Melanie had missed the sarcasm in her sister's voice. Sam rolled her eyes in annoyance. "Oh! I've gotta keep this line moving! I'll see you guys inside. Enjoy the show!"

After a hasty goodbye to Melanie, everyone but Carly entered into the building. "Wait, Melanie, what exactly is this thing?" she asked hurriedly.

"It's basically a story-telling show," she answered, ushering more guests into the theatre. "We call up a member of the audience and they have to make up a story on the spot." Melanie smiled brightly at Carly. "It's fun. When we have to pick kids, we go for the adorableness, and when we have to pick older people, we go for quality. Just a warning—" the blonde winked. "—We have to pick older people for this show. And I've got my eye on a certain brunette someone."

"Oh," breathed Carly nervously. "Spencer?"

"No!" Melanie giggled. "You!"

"Me?" questioned the web show host with a fearful gaze. "I-I can't!"

"Sure you can!" encouraged the sweeter of the Puckett twins. "Now go on, you'll lose your seat! We've gotta make everyone move in as much as they can soon! Go, go, go!"

Moaning frightened and disappointedly, Carly trudged her way back into the theatre and took her seat on Sam's right side.

"What's the matter, kid?" the blonde asked, mouth full of a Fat Cake from a packet she'd brought with her in her pocket.

Carly pouted angrily, facing ahead of her with her arms across her chest. Admittedly she was looking very childish at that moment, but at that point in time, she honestly did not care. "Your sister is mean," she whined.

Sam was so shocked she did a spit-take, leaving the woman in front of her with chunks of chewed marshmallow, chocolate, and cream in her hair. "Mel? _Mean_?" she questioned, completely disregarding the very displeased woman's glare. "I think you might've been out in that heat a little too long, Carls."

"Yeah, you'll see," grumbled the disgruntled brunette, sinking deeper into her seat.

"Attention, everyone!" called Melanie from the stage. "First, I wanna wish you all a good afternoon! I hope you're enjoying your stay today at the Hollywood Lot!" She was met with cheers from most of the crowd. "Alright," she laughed. "You guys sound like you're really happy! My name is Melanie, and I'm actually a producer here at Chuck Dingo World's Hollywood Lot, and I'm lookin' for a good story to turn into a movie! Now you guys, do you know what you're here for?" Melanie put her hands on her hips and looked into the crowd expectantly.

The majority of the theatre answered more or less in unison, "What?"

"Well, you're story writers, of course!" The crowd "ooh"ed. "That's right, whether you knew it or not, each and every one of you is a story writer, because each and every one of you has a unique story to tell! Now what I want you to do—" Melanie began, putting her index fingers to her head. "—Is think of the most magical story you can. And I'm gonna put on my little magic-seeking hat over here. With it, I'm gonna pick out a _really_ magical story. Then you're gonna come up here, and tell it to everyone! By the end of the day, with the help of our Dingo animators, your movie will be in the works! Now are you ready?" The crowd cheered in anticipation. "Okay, think!" And Melanie put the rainbow-splattered goofy hat on her head, making buzzing and beeping sound effects with her mouth. "Buzz, buzz, buzz. Oh, I'm sensing a _real_ juicy one…buuuuuuzz. Yeah, this one is really good. If only I could find—beep, beep, beep, beep! There it is! You! The brown-haired girl with the white peasant top!"

"Good eyes, Melanie," grumbled Carly, unmoving.

"Carly, go!" Sam called as she shoved her best friend.

"I'm not going!" whimpered the younger Shay.

"Why not, Carly?" asked Spencer. "You're really good at making up stories on the spot! You can do it!"

"No I'm not!" shouted Carly in disbelief. "I couldn't even make up something to say at Mr. Galini's funeral, remember? I just made grieving people sing "Amazing Grace"!"

"Uh, brown-haired girl whom I've absolutely never met before in my life," Melanie laughed nervously into the microphone. "Would you please join us on the stage and share your idea?"

Sam rolled her eyes, shoving Carly gently at the same time. "Melanie's gonna come back here and grab you up there if you don't go yourself."

"No she won't!" Carly sobbed tearlessly. "She's not you!"

The apathetic twin ceased her shoving, eyeing her friend in scrutiny. "She's more me than you know."

"Aw man!" Carly whined as she hesitantly rose to her feet and made her way to the stage.

"There you go!" beamed Melanie. "It's nice to meet you. What's your name?"

The brunette's eyes, large with stage fright, suddenly squinted as she turned to the sincere Puckett glaring venomously. Through bared teeth, she hissed, "Carly Shay."

The bubbly blonde laughed nervously at the glance she was shot. "That's a really nice name," she answered slowly. "Why don't you tell us your story? Here, have a microphone." And handing the microphone to Carly, Melanie backed away, all the way to the left-hand corner of the stage.

The fear returned to the web show host as she once again faced the crowd. "Once upon a time—" she broke off, gulping, her throat closing up with nerves. The room was completely silent and every eye was on her. "Once upon a time, there was a princess." There _had_ to be a princess, she figured. It _was_ supposed to be a magical tale, after all. But then, a problem arose. Carly had nowhere else to go from there. She searched the audience for inspiration, just in time to see Spencer run out of the theatre, chasing a quaking duck that, apparently judging by her brother's shrieks, stole his wallet. But then her eyes landed on someone, and her left eyebrow rose in intrigue as she gave a half-tilt of her head. "A very irritable princess. And she had this servant—a very noble boy." She nodded her head in approval of the way that her story was flowing. "Oh, and a very beautiful handmaiden! Who was also very wise! And often conversed with the castle's wizard who…liked to sculpt…things."

The brunette cleared her throat as she stared at all of the eyes staring back at her in interest, to see just where this tale was going. Thinking for a moment, Carly figured out what she wanted to say next. "And though the irritable princess got along relatively well with everyone else, she and her servant boy fought constantly. Still, they faced many challenges together, the four of them—witches—" she said, thinking of Valerie. "—Ghouls—" Nevel was on her mind when she added that one. "—Shape-shifters—" For this, she thought of Kyoko and Yuki in Japan, who had betrayed them, all in attempts to win the iWeb Awards. "—And even dragons!" The dragons, of course, carried the faces of the "Totally Terry" writers, but she didn't mention that—for some reason, saying that at Dingo World felt like a bad idea. But with the words she spoke, she wowed the crowd. Many of the spectators let out sounds of astonishment. "That's right," nodded Carly. "They did it all together, even though the servant and the princess claimed to hate each other! But—" she said, raising her index finger to the crowd, Sam sinking lower into her seat as she did. "—The handmaiden was too wise to fall for their tricks. She knew that secretly, they were in love with each other." Okay, admittedly, maybe love was stretching it too far, but in a fantasy tale for children, things needed to be over the top. Freddie, however, stared at Carly incredulously as if she had just insulted his entire family. The audience gave a group "aww." "But they were _so_ reluctant! In fact, anytime that they got closer together, they just ended up fighting and arguing and seemingly hating each other more! But the handmaiden knew that the two fought for many reasons—sometimes, it was merely a game that they played, at others they _were_ really angry, but at others still, they did it to hide—they did it because it was the only thing they knew to keep things from spinning out of control; to keep them from changing into something that they thought they might not be able to handle, and therefore feared."

Sam's eyes lowered to the ground but Freddie's gaze held as he shot a quick glance at the blonde next to him and then looked back to Carly. The brunette continued on stage. "The handmaiden grew frustrated! This couldn't keep happening! Progress couldn't just keep being made and then be whited out moments later!" Her look grew tight on the crowd, eyes squinting as she nodded. "She knew she had to intervene. Of course the princess and the servant would still fight when they were together, but they wouldn't be hiding anymore!" Bringing a hand up to her heart, Carly grimaced into the crowd of onlookers. "She knew that the more they hid, the more pain they felt." Sam's eyebrows pulled together at this, her gaze still on the floor. "She tried to help, but her attempts led nowhere—only to her insanity! The wise wizard, with a spell, restored her mind, but left her with these wise words, for he, too, had noticed the princess and the servant's love." The brunette smiled somberly. "He said, "Ca—"" she stuttered, shaking her head rapidly and blushing a bit. ""Handmaiden, you are not Cupid—stop trying to be. If something is meant to happen between the princess and her servant, it will happen on its own." And she respected his words. But inwardly, she feared. And she wished that something would happen sooner rather than later, because the two only seemed to be drifting further apart the more time that it took. And she knew that they could just be happy if they stepped up and said something!" The majority of the crowd looked dower. "And she and the wizard both knew that, though they would deny it, the two _needed_ each other. Without each other, they wouldn't have been the respective people that they had become through their friendship. And if either were to leave—despite how many other close friends they had—" she took a deep breath and shook her head, neutrality taking over her face. "—They would be completely alone."

Sam kept up her sad stare on the floor as Freddie's look dropped, if only for a moment, into one of sheer melancholy. Of course he'd gotten the message of Carly's story. It couldn't be any clearer. But she was wrong, he knew. He and Sam could never be anything. Even if they wanted it to be, it just wouldn't work. And, in thinking this, Freddie obliviously played right into his part in the improvised tale.

Melanie cast a deep and knowing frown on Carly as she stayed to the left of the stage, seemingly lost in her own world. Even after only meeting Freddie that one time, she still knew how he felt about Sam. It was obvious from his interactions with her when he believed her to be her sister. Maybe kissing him was a bit over the line, but she had had to prove to him that she was not Sam (plus, he was so adorkable—a word she found very fitting of Freddie's character.) But, from his reaction, she could tell that his feelings for her sister were much more complicated than they seemed.

And Sam was just so easy to read in this front. Whenever she and Melanie spoke, when she asked what Sam was up to, Freddie's name would come into the conversation numerous times. It was, oddly, like he was one of her top priorities, regardless if most of the times that he was mentioned were about torturing the poor boy. Melanie Puckett realized that her sister was in a very deep and oddly woven web of feelings with the technical producer of iCarly. She knew, at least, how much _Sam_ had to be hurting at that moment.

Blinking her eyes a few times and taking a big gulp of air, the bubbly blonde pulled herself back to reality. And clearing her throat, she asked. "Carly, how does it end?"

Carly turned slowly to Melanie, her eyebrows arched with sadness as she replied lowly, "I don't know yet."

Frowning, the mirror of the brunette's best friend walked up to her side. She smiled to the audience, for it had grown eerily and ominously quiet. And for the sake of her job, she needed to uphold the cheerful ambience of Chuck Dingo World. "Well, cliffhangers are nice sometimes," she laughed and the crowd laughed almost nervously along with her. Placing a hand on Carly's shoulder, Melanie smiled sadly, but genuinely as she continued. "But I think we'll be able to work out an ending that fits."

A small and slight smile spread across Carly's face like the sun emerging from the clouds after a storm. For some reason, this assurance just made her feel better. Something about the way Melanie spoke simply seemed to hold a deeper meaning to it than it showed on the surface.

Huffing out a weakened breath of air, as if she had been through her own battle just now, and was relieved for it to be over, Melanie turned her attention back to the crowd. "As always, the movie of this story will be up for viewing in a week or so on the Dingo website! And that's our show," she beamed toward the audience, sliding her hands into her pockets. "I hope that you all enjoyed it and come back soon! The stories are always different, and magic is _always_—" At this, Melanie opened her hands and streamed them through the air, glitter of all different colors fell from them. She winked. "—In the air."

After more oohs-and-ahhs, the crowd began flittering out the doors of the theatre. Carly turned back to the Puckett sibling in front of her. "Erm, do you need my information or something for the story?"

Melanie scoffed. "I have all of that already, silly! Now go!" The blonde gestured to the quickly disappearing masses. "It looks like your friends took off without you."

The brunette pouting, turned and witnessed for herself that Melanie was indeed right. "That's just like them!" she yelled before sighing and turning back to the giggling face of Sam Puckett's twin sister. "Mel, it really was great seeing you."

She flashed her teeth in a genuine smile. "You, too, Carly." And after giving the web show host a big hug, she laughed. "Now, go!" she exclaimed through her chuckles. With a nod, Carly took off from the stage and down the aisles. "Give my regards to everyone!" the blonde shouted after the brunette blur.

"I will!"

Once outside, Carly found Spencer, Sam, and Freddie. The only strange thing was that Sam and Freddie seemed to be standing off to the side, staring at each other as if communicating wordlessly. But Spencer grinned and swept his sister into an embrace. "Hey! Sorry I couldn't stay for the show, but I heard you did great!"

"Oh! Sam and Freddie told you?" she asked, smiling. Hope suddenly flooded her features.

"Well, no," answered the artist embarrassedly. "But everyone else did."

"Oh," she frowned in disappointment, casting a saddened glance at her two best friends. But she couldn't let the hope given to her by the insightful Melanie Puckett go to waste. Eager to change the subject she chimed, "Hey, did you get your wallet back from those ducks?"

This obviously brightened Spencer's mood, too, seeing as his grin returned. "I sure did," he replied as he poked the younger Shay's stomach. "_And_ while I was getting my wallet back, I saw a ride that I think we will _all_ enjoy." Looking around quietly, trying to raise the suspense of the moment, he finally continued to say, ""Galaxy Tours"!!! It's like "Galaxy Wars," but a ride!"

"More space, huh?" asked Carly, hands on her hips, an expectant smile stretched across her face.

"Chyeah!" the older Shay sibling confirmed as if the answer were obvious making more than a few exaggerated movements to go along with this tiny statement.

Sam shrugged, indifferent to the situation. "Sounds good to me." As a thrill-seeker, she was simply looking for thrills. And as an in-denial teenage girl, she was simply looking to get away from the previous situation she had found herself in.

But most surprisingly, Freddie had nothing positive to say on the situation. All he looked was grumpy. And that was all he _sounded_ when he answered, "No thanks. You guys go. I'll wait for you to get off of the ride."

Both Shay siblings shared a nervous glance at Sam and Freddie, knowing that what was happening undoubtedly revolved around them. Then, their nervous glances turning to each other, they found themselves speechless.

Sighing heavily, Sam's hands slid to her pockets as she sluggishly ambled around to face Carly and Spencer. "I better stay with the dork and make sure he doesn't get the snot beat out of him by some little kid."

Freddie glared at her, that morning's annoyance seemingly returning and intensifying. "I don't need you to protect me, Sam—I'm fine on my own."

"Uh. Yeah, you do. Now quit complaining, nubface." Sam knew that staying behind with Freddie would just put her in another bad situation—possibly shove her into another horrible corner. But if that was what she needed to do to keep up the normalcy, she'd take one for the team.

Still, the Shays remained unmoving. They both had their fears about leaving the two friends alone at this point in time.

But Sam sealed their indecision as she once again turned towards them and gave them a confused shake of her head. "Go," she commanded in an almost questioning tone. And so, they took off.

It was quiet for a while after Carly and Spencer had left. The Florida air was stagnant and humid, the sky now full of clouds. Rain was expected at a moment's notice. And while the sun was blocked away from the wall of haze in the heavens, it was hotter than ever. The environment summed up the atmosphere of the situation perfectly. Sam and Freddie stood quiet, still as the clouds. And as it should be cooler in this period of covering from the sky, just as things should be tranquil and calm in the quiet, for some reason, this moment seemed to be an exception from that logic—it was unbearably hot instead of cool, and the air tense, _not_ calm. Just as rain waited in the wings, so loomed the ominous sensation of an outburst about to take place.

But the silence was killing Sam, and, she thought, if she had to be stuck in a corner, the least she could do was trap Freddie in one with her. "So, Benson," she began in a subdued tone, staring into the distance. "What's up?"

His eyes flitted to her, but while they were still stuck in anger, they were also lined with confusion. "What are you talking about?"

"What's all this about?" she asked, shrugging her shoulders. "What's got your germ-fighting underpants in a bunch?"

Freddie's glare deepened with the mocking jab that was shot at him. If she was trying to make casual conversation and get him to open up, she was doing it the wrong way. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"You being all angry?" she asked, facing him now as she shook her head. "I know it's not about me shoving you off the bed this morning."

"Oh?" he questioned obnoxiously as his eyes flecked to her direction for merely a nanosecond.

"No. It's about the story that Carly told." Silence lingered. Drip, drip, drip. Sporadic spots of water dotted the ground, coming two seconds between each other. And then Sam did what she never had. She turned around and blocked Freddie into that horrible corner. "So what'd you think about that anyway?"

No, no, _no_! This wasn't good. Freddie could not let this be. He realized over the last couple of days that he _did_ want something more with Sam. It was the only thing that could explain everything that had happened—the many times he nearly kissed her, the long and heavy silences, the way his heart fell whenever she frowned and he _knew_ it was his fault. But he could never take that step. He could never ask, "What if…?" Because whenever his mind wandered to what would happen if they were together, another question came as if it were attached to that—what would happen if they were together, and then they broke up? It could ruin whatever they had resembling a friendship. And he just couldn't let that happen—he, as strange as it was to say, treasured that way too much. "I thought it was stupid," he glared.

Sam's eyes flashed with pain before setting into an angered glare. Snidely, she retorted, "_You_ think something _Carly Shay_ made is _stupid_?"

For a moment, uncertainty clouded Freddie's mind. Maybe this wasn't the right thing to do. Maybe he should just be honest and—But _what if_…? But was denying the truth and fighting really making it any better? "Sam, I don't want to talk about this right now."

The blonde nodded, her voice thick when she quickly said, "I lied, you know," with a shrug. "I never get a restful sleep. I'm always like, half-awake or something. Or, I'm in some middle ground between asleep and awake. I haven't gotten a good night's sleep since last year."

Freddie flinched at her tone. She sounded near breaking He had never, ever heard Sam sound like that in his life, and it scared him. Why was he able to push Sam Puckett into an emotional place that she had never been before? "And?" he asked, trying to sound uncaring as thunder rumbled in the atmosphere.

Sam's eyes sunk further into her glower, frustrated with his apparent obliviousness. "It's _because_ of—" But then she broke off, trying to start again from a new angle. "I know you tried to kiss me."

The only thing that kept Freddie's poker face intact was the fact that he wasn't staring Sam in the face. His eyes were on the floor as he shook his head. "You're being ridiculous, Sam."

"Look at me, Freddie!" she yelled, her voice cracking, eyes burning with the tears that she forced back. Her chest heaved with the labored breaths of her sheltered emotions. "Are you talking to me or that puddle over there?"

"I am talking to _you_, Sam!" he shouted, teeth bared on edge as his eyes whipped up to bore into hers. "_You_ are being ridiculous! I would never want to kiss you!"

Lightning, and rumbling thunder. At that moment, the rain picked up, suddenly coming down much heavier as Sam replied in a quiet, almost confused, and sorrow-laden tone, "You already did." The battle in the skies raged on as the blonde's mind raced to once again find her footing in the argument. "And I _know_ you tried to kiss me. And you held me in your sleep, and—"

But she, once again, broke off. And Freddie kept his face as emotionless as he possibly could. This would be tough—he knew it would be. And that was one of the reasons he wished that they never had to have the conversation that they were. This was for the best, though. Or was it? What if he had been going in the wrong direction all along? No, he couldn't think that way. Not now. He'd gone too far to turn back now.

With a heavy huff that, midway, transformed into a growl, Sam ran her fingers through her soaked hair. "I can't take this, Freddie," she rasped, eyes heavenward as she shook her head. "I can't take how you're constantly messing with my emotions! This isn't me!" she yelled jumping on each word, pointing a sharp finger at herself. "Do you see what you're _doing_ to me? You're literally driving me crazy!"

It was easy for Freddie to reply this time, because his words were all in truth. "Yeah, like you haven't driven me crazy."

"Not like this!" she rebutted. "I'm feeling things that I shouldn't even be feeling—things that I don't even understand! For the first time, I'm not in control of myself and it is all your stupid fault!" Instead of drawing a crowd like a fight such as this one was expected to do, it actually kept people away. Passerby tried to remain unseen as they walked quickly past the quarreling teenagers. "And you just stand there and deny it all. Well you know what? I can't take it anymore." And with a waggle of her head, she said the exact words that Freddie was trying to avoid. "Once we get back to Seattle, I'm done."

The blonde stomped away, leaving Freddie speechless. What had he just done? If anything had ever clued him in that he had been going in the wrong direction in the past, this finalized that. Now the question was, how to fix what just happened. Was there even any way possible?

Unbeknownst to the tech producer, he and Sam were not the only people engaged in their argument. Once the clouds parted, the sun was revealed (Literally, as well, as the sun emerged from the sky, though the rain—lightened—continued.) And a sighing and sorrowful Melanie Puckett made her way after her sister as Freddie trudged off towards where Carly and Spencer would be exiting the "Galaxy Tours" ride.

"Sam?"

"What do you want?" growled the web comedian in a high, almost fragile tone. Her voice was tainted with unfamiliar sadness.

Melanie frowned. Sam hadn't seemed this breakable since they were children. It was true that almost nothing could make the girl get that way. Brushing a strand of hair that had come loose from her ponytail back and behind her ear, she softly asked, "May I sit?"

It took Sam a moment to respond—probably unsure of what to do and what was to come. "It's a free country."

Melanie sat gracefully on the bench next to her sister, leaning down to catch her eye. "You're crying," she exclaimed in sorrow. But Sam just turned her face away, hiding from her sister's view. Melanie's lips pursed. "I saw what happened back there."

"And?" asked Sam as she choked on her words slightly. "What? Did you come here to tell me I was overreacting?"

"No." The twin shook her head. "I came to tell you that you did exactly what you needed to."

It was now that Sam turned back to her sister, her eyes filled with questions. But her tears had stopped, salt dried on her cheeks as she wiped at her nose with her wrists.

"Look," Melanie began, reaching into her pocket and taking out a pack of tissues. Pulling one out, she put it to Sam's nose. The apathetic blonde rolled her eyes, but the bubbly one insisted. "Blow," she nodded. And so Sam blew her nose into the tissue. Melanie crumpled it in her hand and set it down on the bench, taking in a deep breath before continuing. "When I was on my date with Freddie, he seemed very…nervous."

"Duh," Sam shrugged. "He thought that you were me. He was afraid that any moment I was just gonna break out and kick his nerdy butt."

"No," Melanie corrected. "He seemed to insist that you hated him. But the way he said it was like he was trying to reassure himself. Like if you didn't hate him, something was different with the world, and it scared him. I think he's afraid of change." Sam's eyes lowered at this. "_But_ I do think he likes you. He's just afraid of where that change may lead him. But now that you did what you did—said what you said—give him some time! The boy will come around." The bubbly blonde grinned, a very similar grin to the one normally found on her sister's face. Only hers was not coated in malice, but kindness. "I know he will."

"I don't even know if I _want_ him to come around," Sam grumbled.

"Oh, you silly girl!" cried Melanie with fake disappointment as she biffed her sister on the back of the head. "Of course you do! Get that through your head."

After staring down at the bench for a few moments, Sam scoffed, a smile lighting her features. "Hey Mel?" she asked, her eyes rising back to her sister's mirrored blues.

"Yeah, Sam?"

"Thanks." Leaning over, she threw her arms tightly around her sister in a hug.

Holding onto Sam and patting her back, Melanie sighed. "Sam, I love you." Smiling, she nodded with certainty. "You can be really dense at times, but I do."

Sam's scoff sounded again as her grin grew wider. "Hate you, too."

Spencer tilted his head when he spotted the two blondes a few yards away. "You think something's wrong?" he asked.

"No," answered Carly, a genuine smile flitting across her face. "Not anymore."

Freddie stared at the two smiling Shay siblings in confusion.

But he was the only one that was confused. Carly knew for sure now—fate could only take you so far. It could only layout the paths of your life ahead of you. But it was up to you to decide which road you were going to travel.

--

**AN: My goodness this is the longest chapter that I have ever written! And I hope that it proved to be enjoyable! Sorry it took so long. Though it was difficult to splay out, it was definitely fun, and I hope it was just as fun to read. There's not much to say about this one. "Doll Novel" is an obvious reference to "Toy Story," and "Hotel of Horror" is a reference to "The Tower of Terror," and lastly, "The Amazing Show Ride" is a reference to "The Great Movie Ride." Once again, I hope you liked this chapter and thank you all for reading and reviewing =D**

**-Fictions**


	9. Chapter 9

Summary: As an apology from the Dingo Channel, the iCarly gang has been given a free trip to Chuck Dingo World—the Most Magical Place on Earth. What could happen to them there—romance, adventure, hilarity? The answer is all of the above. SEDDIE.

Disclaimer: Spencer owns spaghetti tacos, right? Well, I _made_ spaghetti tacos, but I never claimed to own the recipe. I just borrowed it. Like I borrowed the characters of iCarly and Charles Dingo for this story! But both are _really_ owned by Dan Schneider.

iGo to Dingo World: Chapter 9

The piece of advice given to Sam by her sister stuck with her for the rest of the day. "Play hard-to-get," Melanie had said.

"Hard-to-get?" Sam asked with a cocked eyebrow and a frown.

Melanie cast a disappointed and disbelieving look upon the apathetic Puckett. "Sam," she chided. "You've _never_ heard of playing hard-to-get?"

Sam shot her sister an offended glare, complete with vicious sneer. "I've heard of it!" she yelled back. "Mind games are one of my specialties—you know that!"

"So," the bubbly blonde began with furrowed eyebrows, elongating the word in confusion. "What's the problem?" she questioned with a shrug.

Sam's eyes rolled as her hands snaked to her hips. This should've been obvious for Melanie. It was not as if the girl hadn't known her for her entire life. "I kind of already play hard-to-get," she stated, her voice dripping with impatience. "But, you know, without actually playing. So, I guess what I'm really asking you is—" The web comedian bounced her head from side to side as her gaze drifted to the sky, almost like she was testing something in her mind. Finally, her attention retuned to her sister. "—How do I play _harder_-to get?"

"Oh!" Melanie exclaimed in realization. Her face brightened as if an actual light bulb had gone off over her head. Pondering for a moment, the sincere Puckett shrugged her shoulders. "Well, that's easy."

Sam eyed her sister in uncertainty. "It is?"

"Yeah," she smiled. "I mean, you give him a lot of attention, don't you?"

Sam cocked an eyebrow, wondering just where her sister was going with this line of thought. "I constantly try to push the guy into insanity."

Melanie shook her head rapidly in excitement, beaming with genius. "It doesn't matter!" she called, voice trilling with adrenaline. "Good or bad, attention is attention! And do you ever give it, girl!" The blonde giggled, lightly punching her less enthused mirror image in the arm playfully.

Sam just stared at her unimpressed. Her eyebrows were lowered as if she somehow knew that the conversation was going absolutely nowhere and it no longer interested her. "Does this actually have a point?"

But Melanie recovered right away as if her kind gesture had been fully accepted and embraced. And with Sam, that probably _was _how the gesture was accepted and embraced. The bubbly twin gave a close-mouthed grin and a quick nod. "Mmhmm!" she murmured in affirmation. "If you take that attention away, Sam, he'll be _sure_ to notice."

"And?" Sam questioned monotonously.

Melanie rolled her eyes jovially. "Aw, come on, Sam! Get with the program!" she chided. "It'll make him feel _weird_! He'll think it's his fault that you're acting this way, and he'll finally _crack_!"

"Whoa, Mel," the normally apathetic blonde commented lowly as if in worry. "That's really devious." But suddenly, a wide mischievous grin invaded her features. "I'm proud of you, kid."

"Yeah, well," the sweet mirror image shrugged, her hands clasped on top of her folded legs. "I learn from the best."

So when Sam returned to the group, she did her best to make herself seem obviously upset. Instead of walking between Carly and Freddie as she normally did, she now found herself standing between Carly and Spencer, as far as she possibly could from the tech producer. She didn't drag him off to any rides, and she didn't comment on him _at all_. Out of everything else, which mainly just saddened Freddie, this quite literally worried him.

At dinner, there were no snide or obnoxious comments from Sam. There was no rude behavior of any hint of impoliteness to her countenance. By this point, everyone was starting to become even the slightest bit paranoid over this change in behavior.

Whenever the opportunity to watch a show or fireworks display came around, Sam was always adamant about her feelings on it. Either she would want to see it, no questions asked, or she would want to avoid it, no questions asked. But when it came time to line up for Hollywood Lot's famous attraction, "Mysdingo," the blonde really had no opinion on the show either which way. Freddie murmured with guilt. Suddenly, no one felt like watching the performance and they headed back to the hotel room.

Though they didn't stay to watch "Mysdingo," it was still late once they returned to their room. They all took their respective showers, Spencer relaxed to watch some late night television, Carly left to retrieve a new bucket of ice, and normally this was when Sam and Freddie were left to their own devices, whether they were to fight or just chat with each other. But on this night, Sam spent this time removing her pillow and the blanket from her and Freddie's bed and placing it on the floor.

Quirking an eyebrow but leaving a heavy frown on his face, Freddie asked, "Sam, what are you doing?" just as Carly walked back through the door, pausing to look at the scene.

Sam shrugged whilst quietly responding, "I know I fight you every night in your sleep and now I felt I'd give you a break."

"So you're sleeping on the floor."

"Yeah."

Freddie felt his frown and his voice pull deeper. His tone sounded horribly grim and silent as he answered back, "You don't have to."

Everyone's attention was on them at that moment—Spencer had even looked up from his television program, trying to subtly lower the volume in order to hear the conversation. Even Sam found herself momentarily paused at that point in time, staring down at the blanket that she had laid out on the floor. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea, she thought. But she soon buried that pondering. The fact that Freddie was sad was _good_—it meant that what she was doing was working. And though it was one of those rare moments for Sam when Freddie's unhappiness hurt her own feelings, she knew that she had to keep the charade of her normal apathy up. This was not to be misunderstood—her normal apathy was _not_ faked. Sam was just naturally uncaring. But at this point in time, it was a ruse. Still, she found herself pretty much emotionlessly replying, "I know."

And that was the end of the conversation. Deadpan, Freddie fell back on the bed. He stayed that way until everyone had said their goodnights and the lights were out.

Sam wished she had been able to tell Carly what had been going on. The look on her face alone when she gave her robotic response was heartbreaking. But there was no way she could let her know. If the two went outside, that'd be too suspicious, as would to invite Carly into the bathroom with her. (Those were the only two "private" places at the resort, really.) And taking out her phone and texting her was not an option either. If Sam were to be typing on her little cellular device and suddenly Carly's phone rang with a message, someone was _bound_ to notice. And it was a safe bet to say that that someone would probably be Freddie.

But there were a few positive things that came for Sam Puckett that night. One was the obvious guilt that she evoked in the tech producer, bringing him one step closer to breaking, but another was a restful sleep. That's right, for the first time in a _long_ time, the blonde did not have to fight her way through confusing and complicated dreams. Everything was peaceful—blank and white, as if Sam were just in a fluffy bed of clouds in a sky that held nothing and everything at the same time. And it was amazing.

As happy as Freddie was to know that Sam was no longer fighting in her sleep—he would've known had she been, considering her makeshift bed was positioned so that if her fists and feet _did_ fly, they would bang into his box spring (truly this was done unintentionally and merely instinctively by Sam)—he couldn't bring himself to sleep.

He sighed, staring straight up to the ceiling whilst resting with his hands behind his head. Anyone would've figured that sleep would come easier if one didn't have a psychopath next to them, beating the daylights out of them in their sleep. But, much to his surprise, this did not hold true for Freddie. In fact, that night he found himself getting no sleep at all. His mind raced with thoughts all running in different directions. It was as if he were walking through that stream of judgments, trying to avoid them as they sped towards him from all sides. He envisioned this much like a game of "Frogger." And as the little Freddie Frog tried to cross that big and crowded street, he was hit by a truck labeled "REGRET" in big letters, which honked at him and reprimanded him for everything that he had said to Sam. When the truck sped away, he leapt up. But he didn't run. No, he didn't escape these thoughts, because he knew that what Sam was going through now _was_ his fault. He was done running from all this—it was time to face the mistakes he'd made. So why couldn't he face Sam in reality?

But just as he was pondering this, a sports car—a very familiar, very _red_ sports car—drove through from the opposite direction, and once again ran him flat. This one, for some reason, told him that he should be angry with Sam—that she was being ridiculous for acting the way she was. And though part of Freddie believed that to be right—she shouldn't have changed so much because of their encounter, regardless of how big or small it may be—his regret far outweighed his annoyance.

That would soon change if Sam had any say in the matter, though. While Melanie had advised her to basically make Freddie feel remorseful until he finally broke down in melancholy, Sam had _different_ ideas. While the foundation of Melanie's idea was strong, its overall basis was a bit _too _melodramatic and stereotypical for Sam. After all, she didn't want the tech producer crumbling to a pile at her feet in tears of anguish over her. She wanted him to burn and to seethe—she wanted him to finally snap from anger over her ridiculous behavior. Sam _did_ always like a feisty Freddie.

The morning came and just as Freddie's thoughts cleared, so did whatever cool air was left from the night in Florida. According to the news, that day would be the hottest one the group had ever experienced at Dingo World.

Stretching to his feet, Spencer held his hands high above his head as he cracked his knuckles and let loose of a loud yawn, bending backward. A lopsided frown inhabited the older Shay's features as he took in Freddie's form lying motionless on the bed to the right of the room, a pillow clutched to his chest. Freddie's eyes were low, but open. "Hey, Freddo," Spencer began casually as he stepped aside a sighing Carly who was hastily remaking the bed. She didn't like leaving it for the cleaning staff to do.

"Do you know how many beds they make a day?" she had asked. "And do you _know_ how _little_ they get _paid_? It's barbaric!"

But everyone in the room just accepted this little morning ritual of the brunette's. Sam and Freddie's bed was always left for the room service to make, though. Sam stood by her belief that no matter how little they got paid, it was still the job of the cleaning staff to make the bed. And if she wasn't being forced to make her own bed, then she just wasn't going to do it. Meanwhile, Freddie could see Carly's point. But so many years of having to keep his room and bed meticulously clean had reinforced his belief that he needed a break from the norm. Spencer on the other hand didn't question, nor comment on his sister's actions, and just let her go about her business. "Didn't get any sleep, huh?" he asked the almost-too-still boy.

"No," Freddie rasped, his voice sounding scratchy and strained. He winced slightly at his own tone, but then continued on as if not noticing a thing. "The bed's not soft enough."

Spencer blinked in confusion, his head tilting instinctively to the right side. "But you slept there all the other nights and you were fine."

The artist was met with no answer except a knowing glare from his sister. With a nod of her head, she gestured toward the sleeping mass on the floor. Taking a moment after to stare at her sleeping friend, Carly smiled. There was no sad look or pained expression on Sam's face at all. And though the blonde's actions for the latter part of the previous day had seemed odd, Carly couldn't help but think that things truly _were_ getting better, and that perhaps the bizarre changes in Sam's behavior were just some sort of ruse. She wasn't sure what her best friend was trying to accomplish, but her act certainly had most everyone fooled. But Carly nodded to herself—this was no surprise. If Sam Puckett was anything, it was clever.

With a neutral sigh, the brunette knelt over the blonde, reaching a hand out to gently shove her. "Sam, hey. Wake up." Quickly, she stepped back, readying herself for the fist that she knew—

Would not fly. No, Sam did _not_ throw a punch, as Carly had grown accustomed to expect upon waking her. It was rather strange. Instead, all the blonde did was groan, and then mumble, "Mmmey, Carls. What's shakin'?"

Carly smiled proudly down at the sleepy girl in front of her. This _had_ to be a good sign. "Just wanted to wake you up, seeing as how you wouldn't have gotten up at all otherwise," she teased. "So, what do you think for today—Mystic Nation again for the daytime and then Downtown Dingo for the evening? It's the only place we haven't been."

"Mmph," the blonde moaned as she rolled over again, readjusting her head on her pillow, eyes still shut tight. "What's at—" Yawn. "—Downtown Dingo?"

Carly shrugged, lips pursing for a moment as she looked off in thoughtfulness with a shake of her head. "All the comforts of home, really," she nodded. "They have a movie theatre, clubs, restaurants…I was thinking I would call in a reservation at this really nice restaurant—"The Lacrymosa"—for dinner, and then we could go to "La Bomba"—a dance club where we can just hang out and stuff."

"And dance," groaned Sam in muffled annoyance, only muffled because her mouth was pressed into her pillow.

But Carly knew how to win her friend over. "I hear the ham at "The Lacrymosa" is amazing. And they serve full-sized Fat Cake _cakes_ for dessert at "La Bomba.""

"Sounds good to me," mumbled the blonde, nearly cutting off Carly in the process. All she needed to hear was "ham," and she was sold.

"Hey," chimed Freddie from the sidelines, seemingly just being brought to his senses as he sat up on the bed. "You didn't swing." No answer came at all, and Carly looked up at Freddie cautiously, as if pleading with him to rethink what he was saying. "When you woke up," he pressed on, nodding. "You didn't swing at all."

"Huh," sounded Sam as if in thought as her eyes lazily slid open, like gently pulled window shades. Sitting up, she let her eyes find Freddie, still trying to squint the sleep out of them as she waved him over limply. "Well then come over here, Bensonmum, and I'll try to fix that."

Freddie rolled his eyes, finally taking a stand to get ready for the day. Admittedly, while the jab annoyed him, he was very happy to have the old Sam back.

Whoopsie. The insult and threat had just flown out of the groggy blonde's mouth on pure instinct. But once her brain was fully functioning for the day, she made sure to remedy this point and leave no trace of "her old self" behind. All through Mystic Nation, there was no fighting, no sniping, and no teasing. No one was being dragged off towards rides, no one was complaining about stopping for food, and no one was grouching about over the horribly hot weather.

For lunch, they all ate at "ARG Sensei's Ninja-Style Tacos and Taco Salads" again (so Spencer could get all the kids souvenir Viking hats) and still no trouble was to be found—no good, normal Sam and Freddie trouble, and no bad. Still, Carly couldn't help to feel that Sam was up to something. And the more of her behavior she witnessed, the more her suspicions grew. Sam would never let something change her this drastically—not even Freddie. If she _were_ really upset, Carly knew she would be more angry than anything else, and would lash out at those around her. No, the blonde was plotting something—she was sure of that. But _what _was she plotting? Even though Carly and Sam were as close as sisters, sometimes Sam was just too hard to figure out. And as they were eating, Carly had found herself glancing at Sam every few minutes with observant eyes.

"It's quiet," Spencer muttered, the oversized, overfilled taco in his hands as his eyes squinted in wariness. "Too quiet."

"I know what you mean," Carly nodded, sharing Spencer's look and attempting, poorly, not to meet Sam or Freddie's eye contact.

"Yeah," he joined in the nodding, finally bursting into a yell with, "Where are all the ducks?!" which made just about everyone jump as he slammed his fist down on the table.

Carly's eyes went wide. "That's not what I—" but she quickly gave up, moving onto a new argument. "There weren't any ducks in Mystic Nation _last_ _time_ either."

"I know!"

"So then why are you surprised?!"

"Because they weren't out to _get me_ last time!" Spencer shouted, moving in obnoxiously close and shaking his head insanely fast in his paranoia. "They weren't trying to kill me last time!"

"Spencer, that's ridiculous!" reprimanded Carly. "The ducks _aren't_ trying to kill you!"

"Yesthey_are_!" Spencer yelled hurriedly, jabbing a finger at his sister. "Oh my god," he panted, turning around back and forth quickly in fear. "I bet all these people are ducks in disguises!"

At this even both Sam and Freddie dropped their forks and slid their chairs closer to the adjacent table, so as to not be associated with the shrieking artist at theirs. But Carly remained with her brother, glaring skeptically at him whilst rolling her eyes. "I think you would notice if everyone was _waddling_ and had _fluffy tails_ attached to their butts!"

"Maybe they're ducks in really _good_ disguises!"

A grim expression pulled at Carly's features like a child pulling on their parent's leg to gain attention. _Maybe we should go_, the expression seemed to say. And so, acting on her instincts Carly rounded up Sam, Freddie, and her brother and had them make their way back to the resort. They would wait there until an hour and a half before their dinner reservations at "The Lacrymosa" and then begin making their way to Downtown Dingo. Carly nodded at her planning—it was the best thing to do, she knew, considering that according to Spencer, no place seemed to be safe from the supposedly ill-meaning water fowl.

So at 5:30 the group set off on a shuttle towards Downtown Dingo, making it just in time for dinner. "The Lacrymosa" had been fancier than Carly anticipated and she sort of regretted not packing any sort of dressier outfits to wear to a restaurant such as it was, but she tried to best to shrug off that thought. After all, everything became more apparent in hindsight, but one could not dwell on things he or she could do nothing about.

Regardless of all this, though, Sam's "good food" senses went off the chart once they had merely opened the doors of the eatery. Catching her first whiff of the atmosphere her eyes lit up, and she almost beat the maitre de (who had been escorting them) to their table. Upon taking her seat, she immediately grabbed up her knife and fork and banged them on the table impatiently (much to Carly's dismay.)

Freddie grinned at this. "How very classy of you, Sam," he commented obnoxiously as he pulled out the seat next to her and plopped down. The teenager eyed her, grin still in place, adrenaline racing as he awaited her comeback, whether it was merely verbal or some form of physical violence. He _needed_ this. He literally _craved_ this. For nearly the whole trip, they hadn't had one of their playful fights. The whole time they'd been filled with _actual_ anger, hurt, and/or annoyance. But now was the time to grip the normalcy back.

But no answer came. Instead, Sam loosened her hold on the utensils so that they now hung limply in her hands, waiting for the moment of their use. Freddie's grin dropped into a look of neutrality until it became a frustrated glare. Rolling his eyes, he groaned and turned back to his plate, making sure to keep his elbows off the table as he'd been conditioned to do at home. But he added his own twist to it. (When one knew Freddie, they knew that he wasn't as gentlemanly as his mother had wished, which, in his defense was quite unrealistic. He would be polite and mannered and put on a show in front of those he wished to impress, but with Sam, at least, he always showed this more lax and imperfect disposition of his. In fact, Carly thought, Sam was probably the very reason why he knew it was okay to display such a disposition.) Freddie tapped his finger into the cup of his spoon causing its tail end to continuously rise and fall, clanging on the table when it did.

Carly sighed at this and shook her head, briefly throwing her palms over her face in admitted embarrassment. Normally, she knew that at least Freddie would be more respectful than this, but with his current situation with Sam, and what seemed to be his mounding annoyance with her behavior, she wasn't going to be getting the gentleman out of him anytime soon. Shaking her head again, Carly thought of how Sam and Freddie's odd relationship really _did_ affect everyone. And speaking of everyone, she turned to check on her brother Spencer whom she'd noticed had been getting very little attention—Spencer didn't do well under neglect.

Almost as if in exhibition of this fact, said older brother who had just been twiddling his thumbs idly, was now waging a full-on thumb war with himself. He seemed to be entertained and happy (but Carly knew that with Spencer, looks could be deceiving,) though he was the only one at the time. The brunette couldn't help but wear a frown over the way Sam's mood seemed to be affecting Freddie, Freddie continued glowering at his spoon as he kept up his little "tapping" habit, and Sam took to staring blankly straight ahead of her in anticipation of the waiter.

The clanging of Freddie's spoon ceased momentarily. "I wish we were back home," he grumbled, more sadness in his tone than anger.

"_No_," Carly exclaimed almost immediately, shaking her head to dismiss Freddie's thinking. "Come on, guys," she called suddenly pleading to the whole table. "We're on _vacation_. In _Dingo World_. A _free_ vacation that none of us really expected to get. How often does this happen? We should be enjoying ourselves!"

Freddie rumbled incoherently in response, going back to tapping his spoon. Frowning, Spencer stepped out of the quiet. Leaning towards Carly, he whispered, "I'm enjoying myself."

Finally, their dishes came. As the waiter set down Sam's ham platter in front of her, the blonde could not help licking her lips. But just before she took her first bite of food, Spencer's meal arrived in an elaborate display. He had ordered the chef specialty, and so, the chef even accompanied the food to the table, waiting to pull the lid off of the fancy metal plate to reveal the food in person. As soon as the chef lifted the lid, though, Spencer screamed. The duck on the plate lunged at the artist, quacking and flapping its wings madly as it seemed to struggle to get to his face. "I'm not enjoying myself anymore!!" he wailed helplessly.

But Carly's attention was currently occupied by Sam who, lifting her arms over the table, opened her hands and dropped her utensils onto her plate. With only a heavy, obnoxious sigh, she got up and headed outside the doors of the restaurant.

The brunette's concerned, saddened eyes turned to Freddie, whose hands balled up into fists. His eyes were set in a glare, and his teeth were set on edge as he growled, "That is it. I've had _enough_ of this." Angrily, he rose to his feet, slammed his chair back into place, and stomped out after the blonde.

The boy had misread her actions, though. Whereas he believed her to have left because she'd ridiculously gotten overwhelmed with the tension between them, Sam had only left because she could no longer take any more Spencer and duck-related antics. And she knew that if she had stayed in the restaurant, she would have either committed animal cruelty or manslaughter (or both.) And truly, she wished for neither. At this point in time, Sam Puckett was simply not in the mood for violence.

But this went unbeknownst to not only Freddie, but also Carly, who stared after her friends in true uncertainty. Until she was distracted by a face full of feathers. Sputtering and batting away at the wing instinctively, she turned to her brother who was still trying desperately hard to keep the ill-meaning duck away from his face. "Carly, help!" he called over the bird's loud quacking, as it seemed his sister realized the duck was there for the first time.

"Oh my gosh!" she called hastily as she jumped to her feet and began trying to yank the duck away from the opposite direction.

But while this confrontation was happening inside the restaurant, little did Sam Puckett know that one was about to take place _outside_ as well. Sam took a seat on the ledge opposite the entrance of the "The Lacrymosa." All she had wanted was to get some fresh air. And she closed her eyes serenely as she let out a few heavy breaths, the orange glow of the Florida sunset resonating through her lids. The gentle breeze of the coming night brushed against her face, as if trying to steal all her tension away. But that's when the deceptiveness of the wind made itself known—it wasn't trying to steal away her worries, but to give her more.

"All right, Sam," began the familiar voice as said blonde's eyes snapped open. "_What_ do you want me to _do_?" asked a heavy-breathing Freddie. It was easy to see from his half-slouched appearance that he was, indeed, angry. But just why, Sam couldn't tell. Why would her leaving to get a breath of air set him off? "If I apologize, you get mad, and if I _don't_ apologize, you get whatever the heck _this_ is!"

Sam shook her head, confusion still lining her thoughts. Why would he choose now of all times to explode? "Benson, what are you—?"

"What?" he asked sharply, cutting her off. "What am I _talking_ about?" Freddie's eyes narrowed more in annoyance as his idle stance now became equipped with bared teeth, which were only absent when he was shouting. "I'm _talking _about what happened yesterday at that Hollywood Lot place." The boy's back straightened as his tone became slightly less angry—though it was still full of frustration, and his expression did not falter. "Do you wanna know the truth?" he nodded between words. "I _lied_ about everything I said there. And do you know _why_?" Without leaving Sam a chance to answer, Freddie pressed on, now pacing, but keeping his eyes on her. "It's because I was afraid. I was _afraid_, okay?" His tone was suddenly angry again, as if fighting off any possible insult that could erupt from his speech before it was delivered or even thought of. "But you know what? I don't care about fear anymore." At that moment, he became stationary again, now only a few feet from Sam as he stared into her eyes.

It was true that Freddie was taller than Sam by now, but for some reason, at this moment, they seemed at equal height. They had equal dominance in the conversation. The web comedian said nothing, wanting to hear just where Freddie was going with this bold move of his. It was no secret that she was surprised that his outburst took place at this time, but, in all honesty, the sooner he cracked, the better. It meant less effort on Sam's part, and that was one of her primary concerns.

"Because you started something," Freddie continued. "And now, I'm gonna finish it." Sam's eyes widened considerably at this moment. It was obvious that Freddie was taking a stand but this was truly shocking. Sam had only heard him use this tone a few times in the past—mainly with his mother—and only in battles that he knew he would win. The fact that he had this much confidence was admittedly a little startling (if not the slightest bit annoying to her.) "You wanna talk?" he asked after a moment of silence, opening his arms wide, not in welcome, but in a challenge. "Let's talk."

But Sam was momentarily stunned. Speaking was not an option as she stared back at Freddie, her eyebrows furrowed in hostile puzzlement.

"Okay, fine," nodded Freddie sharply, lowering his arms. "I'll do the talking, and you'll just listen." Sighing, he looked away, trying to find his mental footing on where to begin what he had to say to Sam. "I _did_ try to kiss you," he said lowly, finally regaining eye contact with the blonde. "And—" His face turned to the side, as it scrunched, like speaking the words that he was actually hurt, and he had to force them out. "I _did_ hold you in your sleep." Now was when Freddie's nervous fiddling with his hands switched up to nervous pacing. "And I don't know how long I've had these _crazy_ and _confusing_ feelings about you, but—" But at that, he broke off again, apparently not knowing how to say what he wanted to—or just not being capable of. His pacing stopped for a moment as he turned and faced Sam again. He stared at her, almost pleading her wordlessly to get the message he was trying to send. Now that she actually was _letting _him talk, he'd never wanted her to interrupt him so badly. "When we kissed, something happened."

But she found the strength to speak now. "Yeah," scoffed Sam. "You tried to put your slimy tongue in my mouth."

That wasn't the kind of interruption he was looking for. She wasn't taking this seriously, and that annoyed him. His eyebrows knitted together. "Sam," he said, calling her attention—which had been occupied on a fancy shrubbery located outside of the restaurant—back to him. "Shut up."

Freddie was, in fact, wrong about Sam. She was taking things seriously, but it was _too_ serious for her. That's why she found herself buckling under the pressure and cracking jokes. And that's also why she now found herself speechless once again. Freddie had her trapped in that annoyingly familiar corner, and he was making sure that there was no way she could get out this time.

"Remember when Carly asked us if we liked our kiss?" Freddie asked, voice falling back to civility.

"Yeah?" Sam answered questioningly; her head shaking instinctively as her shoulders limply rose and fell.

"Well, I did," he confirmed nodding with certainty. When Sam's eyes flashed with a look of shock, Freddie's eyebrows rose as his nodding became more rapid. "Oh, that's right—I _did_. I just wasn't sure _why_. But now?" he asked, as his hand fell and landed with a clap on his shorts. "Now I do. I'm—" Looking away, Freddie let out another huff of air, seemingly _still _unable to force the words out.

"Spit it out, Benson!"

Swinging his head back to face her, his eyes remained closed as he yelled, "I'm in like with you, okay?"

A shocked silence lingered in the area as the atmosphere, once again, became too tense. Letting a smile show on her face, Sam snickered. "In _like_ with me, Frederico? What are you—ten?"

"_Sam_," Freddie breathed in an exasperated sigh as his desperate eyes fled to the sky. "Yesterday, I was scared that I couldn't handle what could possibly happen between us, but now, I don't care about any of that! I _like _you, Sam!" he shouted, voice full of distress. "And I know what happened yesterday could've changed how you feel about me, and I'm sorry, but I just need to know if you feel the same way _now_!" Freddie's eyebrows furrowed as his tone lost some of its hysterics yet none of its longing. "Come on, Sam," he begged. "No more jokes—no more funny remarks or insults."

At that moment, Sam froze, her playful yet outwardly malicious smile dropped completely, a stoic look of blankness now inhabiting her features. Coming out and just saying that she liked Freddie? That wasn't Sam's style, regardless of the fact that it was more or less true. The blonde had rationalized this throughout the course of the day, summing up her past feelings and her efforts to make him crack under pressure. Why else would she have gone through so much trouble? Suddenly a million instances of the past where she could ask herself the same thing in regards to Freddie came swarming through her mind—thoughts like bees. But she shooed those bees away, as they were straying away from the point—being that she wasn't going to just come out and say that she liked the technical prouder. She hadn't even done so the day before, but still she had been able to get the message across. If only there were some way of doing that now.

And then, a miracle happened. That miracle (at least in Sam's case) was Carly's arrival to the scene, with Spencer in toe. "Guys!" she called once outside the restaurant and within sight of her other friends. But upon seeing the apparent condition they were in, the brunette fumbled with her words. "Oh! I—uh…I meant—" While Freddie sent Carly a confused and saddened expression, she sent Sam a questioning one. _"Are you alright?"_ the look seemed to ask.

All Sam need do was flash a quick relieved smile in the younger Shay's direction and that was confirmation enough.

Shining a brief grin of her own, Carly continued to stutter until remembering her original purpose for barging in on the conversation that had been taking place outside. "I—um…wanted to know if…if…" The brunette's eyes drifted all around as she searched her mental processes. But when her eyes landed on the nightclub next to them, her memory immediately resurfaced, coupled with a snap of her fingers. "—If you two wanted to go to "La Bomba" now. I mean, I'd _like_ to go there _before_ we have to catch the shuttle back to the hotel." Truth be told, though this sounded like a snobby and rude remark, if Sam's look had been anything but thankful for her friend's presence, Carly would've allowed her bickering friends more time to sort things out.

"Carly," mumbled Freddie, disappointed frown in place. "We're kind of in the middle of something—"

But before the teenager could finish his sentence, he was shoved aside by Sam who ran ahead towards the club. "Outta the way, nubbreath, mama needs her Fat Cake cake." The blonde knew things had to be settled once and for all, but she also knew that it would be much easier settled over a nice plate of brightly-colored-coconut flake-covered chocolate cake with a cream and marshmallow center.

Once the group entered "La Bomba," things went much as they normally would sans all the drama that was taking place. Carly, being strongly reassured by Sam's slight smile that was given mere moments prior, was off swaying elegantly on the dance floor with a boy slightly older than her. She didn't know the boy's name—she hardly knew what he was wearing, but they only had one more day left in Dingo World, and this very moment felt like their "last hurrah."

The elder Shay sibling was also dancing, though unlike everyone else who seemed to be purposefully cramped together, Spencer was left with a wide-open space as his surroundings. It seemed to be a generally accepted fact that the man, whose "dancing" (and that term is used loosely in this case) mainly consisted of throwing himself on the ground and chasing after other poor, unsuspecting people whilst making odd facial expressions and limb movements, deserved his own section in the room, away from the crowd. But this didn't hurt Spencer, for he merely interpreted this as the crowd believing that he was simply too awesome to share a space with those "not worthy." So, in short, Spencer Shay was rather flattered.

Meanwhile, Sam and Freddie remained at the group's table, Sam's mind far too occupied on the slice of giant Fat Cake that was in front of her, and Freddie knowing very well that he was not one for the dance floor. Instead, he sat next to her at the table, silently reading something off of his Pear Phone. They were like that for about fifteen minutes, Carly and Spencer occasionally visiting them for water and Sam taking the seldom glance at Freddie, but for the most part, they were quiet. Until, that is, Sam decided that there was enough silence, and just after shoving her fork into her mouth, she spoke around her dessert. "I can't believe you thought one stupid fight would change things." She was purposefully vague. These emotions were foreign to Sam, and while she obviously had no choice over whether she felt them or not, and she wasn't really fighting against them anymore, she still wasn't on the best terms with them. This was unfamiliar ground, and she was always careful and vigilant on unfamiliar ground. She could choose how she was to admit to these feelings as she saw fit.

Freddie turned to her, looking almost unsure that he'd actually heard her. Blinking, he asked, "It didn't?"

Sam met his gaze, sneering. "No," she chuckled humorlessly, as if the answer should've been obvious, "I don't know if you've noticed, dork, but me and you happen to fight a lot."

"Yeah," he rolled his eyes, "but wasn't that fight…kinda more serious than all the others?"

"Well, yeah," the blonde replied with a shrug of her shoulders. "But it turned out all right."

Freddie arched his left eyebrow. "You've been mad at me since yesterday," he stated matter-of-factly.

"No," she grinned. "I only pretended I was to get on your nerves so you'd crack. And you did. Kudos, nerd."

The tech producer glared, obviously hurt that he had been tricked. "So that's why you stomped out of the restaurant back there?" he asked angrily. "To get me to snap?"

"Oh, no, that time I was really annoyed," she nodded. "It's Spencer and those stupid ducks. Right then I was just felling really stabby and not in the mood to get arrested."

Freddie laughed, shaking his head, "Stabby isn't an emotion."

"Yeah it is," she beamed through chuckles, giving him a friendly shove. A half-smirk, half-smile took up her face as Sam nodded. "You surprised me there, Fredwin."

Casting her a crooked smile, his eyes did another 360. "Yeah, well, you know me, I'm big with the surprises," he replied sarcastically as the next song began to play in the background. It was quiet then as Sam finished her dessert and took to staring out at the dance floor, seemingly lost in thought. But it was a peaceful quiet. Carly had been right—they had felt much better now that they had more or less admitted everything to each other. "Can you believe we spent about the whole vacation fighting and annoyed with each other?"

"Yeah," she replied lowly, smiling almost remorsefully. "We _do_ fight a lot." But she didn't sound upset, merely neutral.

"I wonder why we do that, you know?" Freddie asked. "It's crazy—it's almost like we can't help it."

"I know why," Sam blurted out instantly.

"Really?" Freddie had, in truth, the same vague idea as she did, but with the same problem—he simply didn't know how to put it into words. "Why, then?"

A shrug was the only answer he got. She _still_ didn't know how to say it.

His eyebrows furrowed as he shook his head. "But you just said you knew why."

Another shrug. And the silence returned.

The blaring dance music took the place of the conversation. It was an older song, but many would agree that it was fitting all the same. The chorus that played almost sounded like a party all of its own, with its upbeat rhythm and words. "_If we listen to each other's hearts, we'll find we're never too far apart. And maybe love is the reason why for the first time ever, we're seeing it eye-to-eye._" Love was always pushing it with these two, so perhaps it wasn't the apt word. Still, the message held merit.

It was Sam who broke the silence this time. "Hey," she grinned, taking a stand. Offering her hand to Freddie, she asked, "Wanna dance?"

His entire face went slack with nerves, and his eyes wandered as he pondered this question. Gulping, he finally spoke. "You mean you're gonna break my legs and then swing my helpless torso around the room?"

She snickered as if the idea were just some big joke. "No," the blonde answered in a surprisingly soft tone.

"But you said that was the only way you'd dance with me ever again," he nodded, self-assure, the fear still highly evident in his tone. "You said you'd break my legs and then swing my helpless torso around the room."

Sam rolled her eyes. "I _also_ let you believe that I danced with you in the first place. Hey," she waved. "Remember me? I lie. Now, let's go." Without waiting for his response, she gripped his hand and pulled him to the dance floor.

The blonde web comedian immediately began busting out move after practiced move, but Freddie, of course, felt alienated in this new territory. "Sam!" he yelled over the music as he gripped her shoulder and signaled for her to stop moving.

Of course she kept on bouncing but her attention was on him. "What?"

"I can't dance!"

"Oh, shut up, Fredward!" she shouted, reaching out a hand and shoving him sharply in the chest. "Just jump around!" She proceeded to do so. "Doesn't matter anyway—we all know I'm the only one who can actually dance here!"

Carly and Spencer, who had both been working on making their way over to their friends who had just joined the party, stared affronted. "Hey!" they yelled simultaneously.

"I'll have you know," Spencer called matter-of-factly. "My Fire Cracker—even though I don't have the pads and helmet I really need for it—is _rockin'_!"

"Yeah, yeah," replied Sam, turning her attention back to Freddie. Delivering another sharp shove, now to his arm, she yelled, "Dance, dork!"

And so, he jumped with her and tried to follow her movements. Sure, he was bad in keeping the rhythm, but that didn't really matter—they were _finally_ enjoying themselves. A little humility was worth it.

Everything was fine until it came to the "tush push," when Sam successfully knocked Freddie stumbling several feet back. Luckily, Spencer had been there to give him yet another "tush push" to send him faltering right back into place.

This had to be one of the weirdest experiences ever for Freddie Benson—especially as he landed, just as the guitar solo began, in a tango with Sam. The blonde had to have been the most lively and unconventional dancer he'd ever seen, but he was actually having _fun_. So there were no complaints—only the constant rush of adrenaline; a somehow pleasant and exciting urge that he could fall and get a concussion at any minute. The idea of getting hurt in such ways or another did not worry him in the slightest. At the end of the tango, mid-guitar solo, Sam gripped Freddie's hand and forced him to spin her. And then she did the same for him, laughing at just how girly he looked at the moment, and he played it up for everyone's amusement, twirling gracefully and elegantly. "Yeah! Work it, Frederina!" Sam called through laughter.

But then the doors to "La Bomba" burst open, and men armored in black padded jackets, gloves, and helmets rushed through the door. It was pure instinct for Sam that upon seeing people such as these, she run. Dropping Freddie to the floor, the girl began to high-tail it towards the fire exit, just before being grabbed by one of the men. "Blonde, and fleeing at the first sight of authority." He spoke into a microphone. "I have Sam Puckett. Repeat, I have Sam Puckett."

"Oh no you don't, buddy!" yelled Sam as she flipped the apparent officer over her shoulder. But quickly, two other armored men rushed over and grabbed her back into restraint.

Looking down simultaneously at their teammate, the one on the left spoke into his device. "Definitely Sam Puckett."

"Sam!" Freddie yelled, now struggling in the grasp of another officer. "What did you do?"

"I didn't do anything, Fredwin!" growled Sam, face full of rage as she stared around at the crowd of once-happily dancing people that had dispersed through the club in panic.

"Fredwin?" the man who had a grip on Freddie asked.

"One of the nicknames of her son," answered the officer with the hold on Sam's left side.

He nodded. "Fredward Benson in captivity," the man said into his mouthpiece.

Sam's eyes widened with clarity. And then thrashing in the guards' arms again, she shouted, "Your crazy mother sent them!"

"What?" Freddie shrieked in horror, trying to look back at the man who had apprehended him. "Who are you people? What are you doing here?!"

"We're the NSMC," answered the officer. "National Services of Missing Children. We were contacted by Marissa Benson to find and retrieve you, Sam Puckett, Spencer Shay, and Carly Shay."

"Ay carumba!" groaned Freddie.

Sam glared heatedly at him. "This is no time for Spanish! We're being captured! Speak stupid English, ya doofus!"

Just then two more voices sounded from the men's communication radios. "I've got Spencer Shay," cheered one man who sounded far too happy, and, "Carly Shay has been caught," shouted another.

One-by-one, they began being ushered out through the doors. Carly went first, complaining in her shrillest voice possible that the group did nothing wrong and should be able to walk freely.

Spencer followed. "Oh, thank _gooseberries_!" he exclaimed. "You've come to help me! The ducks are _following me_ and _trying to kill me_! I don't know why! Ducks _love_ me in Seattle, but here they want me _dead_! And the chefs are _working with them_!"

Sam cast Freddie one of her normal dissatisfied looks. "Some guys come with brains, some guys come with a car, and other guys come with loads of cash. _You_ come with an insane mother and government agents." With that, she was escorted out, followed by a sighing and ashamed Freddie.

"_Seein' it eye-to-eye..._"

Outside, what looked to be a military-style helicopter awaited the group. And what seemed to be Florida's populous of ducks also awaited them, all quacking incessantly at Spencer as he screamed in agony and fear, just before boarding the aircraft. Once they all took their seats and buckled in, the doors slid closed. And as the helicopter rose off the ground, Carly looked to Freddie with disappointed and angry eyes and repeated, in a mocking voice, his words from earlier in the day. "_I wish we were back home._" Her eyebrows pulled together as she whined, "Haven't you ever heard Dingo World's slogan? "Where Wishes Come True!" This isn't Seattle! That actually _happens_ here!"

--

**AN: THE END. Well, not really. But it is the last regular chapter and wow did it take long to get here! I'm really sorry for the hold up, everyone, but college has started again for me, and I've been terribly busy. So for those of you wondering, no I didn't give up on my story =) Patience is key. But that being said, as not only a fan fiction writer, but also a reader, I know how horrible long waits can be, and how the longer a story takes to update, the less likely an update is to come. Regardless, the story is still alive! I hope you enjoyed the chapter and the way this all played out. The song playing at the dance club is "Eye-to-Eye" by Tevin Campbell, and it was featured in "A Goofy Movie" (just in case it sounds familiar to anyone out there.) So yeah, sorry again for the wait, and thank you for my faithful readers who have stuck out that wait and are reading this now! Oh, and if any of you know where the "nickname," "Bensonmum" is from, you win 50 packs of internet cookies! See you all in Seattle for the epilogue!**

**-Fictions**


	10. Epilogue

Summary: As an apology from the Dingo Channel, the iCarly gang has been given a free trip to Chuck Dingo World—the Most Magical Place on Earth. What could happen to them there—romance, adventure, hilarity? The answer is all of the above. SEDDIE.

Disclaimer: I don't own iCarly—that's Dan Schneider's turf. I don't own Charles Dingo—that's also Dan Schneider's turf. And I also don't own Gibby (even though he doesn't appear in this chapter, waaah~!) But then again, no one _really owns_ Gibby. …Except for Dan Schneider. You get the picture.

iGo to Dingo World: Epilogue

"That is some _crazy_ vacation," Wendy laughed from the middle of the Shay's living room. Instead of sitting, everyone was oddly standing around the chairs and couches.

Wendy hadn't visited the group for just any old reason. Once they had landed in Seattle and after all the proper governmental procedures were taken for the trio-plus-Spencer to be released, Carly had called the copper-haired girl to let her know that they were back, alive and well, and to thank her for the warning about Mrs. Benson that they'd received on their third day in Dingo World. Wendy took this time to spend an hour talking to Carly about the things she had missed while on vacation. Apparently, Griffin had acquired a little crush on the aforementioned redhead and was flirting with her constantly. This made Carly smile. Just because the brunette was rather unenthused about Griffin's "Pee Wee Baby" obsession didn't mean that no one else was allowed to think otherwise. If Wendy was fine with the "bad boy's" odd fixation, then why shouldn't they be together?

But upon Carly's sentiment of, "That's wonderful, Wendy!" Wendy informed her that she was not interested in Griffin romantically. Carly wondered why this was. If she had been accepting of the boy's "Pee Wee Baby" obsession, she knew that _she_ would've been perfectly happy with him. So why wasn't Wendy? And so, she rambled thus.

Wendy had revealed that for some time, she'd had been having feelings for a certain someone, and during Carly and the gang's time away, she finally had a date with that certain someone—that certain Gibby.

The brunette, in shock, immediately invited the redhead over so they could discuss just "how this could've happened," as Carly put it. It wasn't that she was appalled by the idea of Gibby and Wendy, just surprised. And the web show host could never control how her words sounded when she was overwhelmed.

And that's why Wendy had ventured to Bushwell Plaza. She hadn't received a chance to tell her story yet, though, for as soon as she entered the apartment, both Carly and Sam had ushered the girl to stand in the spot she currently claimed in the middle of the room, and took to standing around her as they rapidly spoke about their vacation. Spencer and Freddie, too, joined the room and conversation, Freddie arriving through the front door looking as if he were on an agenda to speak about something else, but immediately jumping into the story narration as soon as he heard Sam spouting details different from the way they actually happened. Spencer emerged from the hallway that led to his room, a rubber ducky in his hand that he squeezed with too much force every time he ended an often disjointed, but telling, sentence about their trip.

Yes, the vacation had been a crazy one. And the flight home from Dingo World was no exception from said insanity.

As soon as the military helicopter took off into the sky, an officer entered the large cabin the group was being housed in. He was overweight and balding, and after smoothing down whatever hair he had, he readjusted his belt and pants. After mentioning that his name was Officer Bennett, he licked his lips and prepared for the apparent long conversation that was about to take place. The next few minutes were spent by the officer explaining what had just happened, going over what was going to occur from that point on, and Sam complaining about her unfinished Fat Cake cake and her red sports car that she had "better get back in one piece, or someone's gonna get steak-smacked."

An embarrassed Officer Bennett said that Marissa Benson _had_ sounded slightly manic when she'd phoned their agency—and everyone on the helicopter knew that he was just being polite with that understatement—but they had to follow orders according to protocol. They were told that as soon as they landed in Seattle and met with Mrs. Benson, they'd all be free to go.

The armored and pudgy officer was met with some groans (from Sam, Carly, and Freddie) and one relieved and blissful sigh from the eldest member of the group. But the sharp whizzing sound and clanging of metal on the floor that came next caused Spencer's peaceful eyes to snap open. From this, he got a perfect view of Officer Bennett's pants-less form.

The official glared down at his slacks that pooled around his ankles. "Stupid government pants," he grumbled. And scowling all the way, he stomped back to the cockpit, pants still at his feet.

It was after this, when everything had calmed down, and an awkward silence flitted across the room that Carly apologized for snapping at Freddie earlier. But he waved it off, never really having minded. Sam had proceeded to kick the side of the helicopter in frustration as they awaited their arrival in Seattle.

After the group was done telling the tale of their adventure, Wendy was only left with a few seconds to take everything in before the alarm on Spencer's cell phone rang. "Whoa!" the eldest Shay shouted, leaping into the air. "I gotta go," he said after silencing the whistling alarm. "I have to go buy—" He paused, his eyes dancing to the ceiling and lips pouting as if deep in thought. "—Cabbages."

Carly shook her head in confusion. "Why do you need to buy cabbages?"

"For a new recipe?" Spencer beamed hopefully, praying to be believed.

The brunette's eyes squinted in suspicion as Sam's tongue popped out of her mouth as if she were about to vomit from disgust. "Blech. Remind me not to try whatever it is you're making, then. The smell of cabbages makes me sick," she said, nearly spitting with her enthusiasm. "It reminds me of Ms. Briggs."

Freddie's eyes lowered in confusion. "Why does the smell of cabbages remind you of Ms. Briggs?" he questioned, awaiting whatever odd and irrational response Sam had waiting for him.

"Because, remember that one day it was like, a million degrees outside and she obviously didn't put on deodorant?"

His lips scrunched together in revulsion as he held up his palm. "Okay," he said, stopping Sam's explanation. That was all that need be said. Wendy mirrored Freddie's look and mouthed, "Gross."

Looking around awkwardly for a moment, Spencer shouted, "Kay, well, bye!" And he began taking off towards the door.

"Wait!" Carly called. Spencer stopped at the sound of her voice and turned back to her, an almost desperate look on his face. "I wanna go shopping for cabbages with you."

"No you don't!" he shouted at an unnecessary volume. "They're smelly and you don't like smelly things, bye!" The door slammed shut behind him.

Freddie questioningly looked to Sam who shrugged her shoulders in response. Wendy cast Carly a curious glance. But the brunette's suspicious glare was currently locked on the door.

The artist's eyes jumped around nervously as he approached the apartment door just across the hall from his own. Preparing to gently rap his fist against the door, he was surprised and nearly let out a shriek as it opened before he had even had the chance. A hand clamped down on Spencer's mouth. "Quiet!" Mrs. Benson commanded silently, subtly pulling Spencer inside and closing the door. "You're late!" she shouted. "I didn't think you were going to make it!"

The elder Shay sibling looked at his watch in confusion. "What's the problem? Our meetings start at three o'clock."

Grabbing the watch from him, she displayed it and tapped its face pointedly. "It's three-o'-_one_," Marissa stressed.

"I was just a minute late!" said Spencer in defense. He didn't understand what all the fuss was about.

"The last time you were "just a minute late," you disappeared for almost two weeks!" the neurotic woman shrieked.

Oh, so _that's_ what this was all about, thought Spencer. "We were just on vacation!"

"You kidnapped my son!"

"No I didn't!" he yelled. "We were over this! He came willingly. He marched his little legs—" He over exaggerated the motion. "—And came with us!"

"Freddie's legs aren't little!" Marissa's eyes were wide and frightening.

"OhyouknowwhatImean!" shouted Spencer, rapidly. Frowning, he said, "Hey, I thought we agreed we wouldn't talk about this stuff. Aren't we supposed to be doing something?"

Mrs. Benson frowned, too, her breath slowing. "Oh that's right," she answered solemnly. "I'm sorry, Spencer. I just get so riled when my baby is involved." She exemplified this, shaking her hands wildly as she spoke. "Come along." Motioning for Spencer to follow her, she led the way to the kitchen table. "I hope the tea's not too cold. It was done by two-fifty-seven, but I wanted it to cool a little so it didn't burn your tongue."

Spencer chuckled as he sat and Marissa gracefully tipped the teapot over his cup. "Mrs. B, you didn't have to—"

She looked to him sternly. "If your tongue gets too hot, it could fall off."

The older Shay sibling's face went blank and his tone turned timid. "Oh my gosh, thank you."

Mrs. Benson nodded. The smile returning to her face, she gently placed the teapot down at the center of the tray that rested on the table and took her seat across from Spencer. But before she could take a sip, she yelled, "Wait!" nearly causing Spencer to send his tea flying.

"What?" he squawked, frightened.

"Pick it up by the handle so you don't scald your fingers." At this, the elder Shay took to staring at the woman incredulously. But she was clearly serious. "_Spencer_," she said, strictly. "If you don't drink your tea properly, then you won't get any of the sugar-free cookies I bought."

He gave a disgusted look. "But sugar-free cookies are nasty and—"

"They're cinnamon and chocolate flavored."

"Ooh, chocomon!" Spencer then hurriedly drank his tea properly, all the way down to keeping his pinky out while he sipped.

Mrs. Benson kept her mothering face about her as she took a sip of her own tea. "Now then," she began as she placed her teacup down on the tiny dish in front of her. "Why don't you tell me all about your highly dangerous little trip?"

The artist found nothing intimidating with the way the woman spoke. And so, he went on, describing his "vacation"—if one could call it that—as if he hadn't even heard the tone. He only paused when Freddie's mother turned on the television next to them, which suddenly displayed video feed of the Shay's foyer. "You…" he trailed off awkwardly. "Have a camera positioned in our living room?"

"Hmm?" Mrs. Benson questioned as if she were daydreaming. "Oh. Oh, yes. So I can make sure my Fredward is safe, you know."

Spencer stared at the woman across from him with alarmed eyes. "That's not creepy," he exclaimed in false cheer as he heaved out a wheezy, nervous laugh.

"Spencer," Marissa chided. "That's not very polite. I may have to hold back those cookies from you after all. What did you call them again—chocomons?"

"I mean it's totally cool that you have a stalker cam hidden somewhere in my living room!"

--

"What was _that_ all about?" asked Sam curiously, an eyebrow cocked as she stared towards the door.

"I don't know," hummed Carly, eyebrows still tight in wariness. "But I have a pretty good feeling that he's _not_ actually out getting cabbages." The seriousness of the situation quickly melted away, though, as Carly turned to Wendy. And as if in that turn, she became another person, she giddily chanted, "Okay, you've got to tell me how all that Griffin and Gibby drama went down."

"Well, I've liked Gibby for a while—you know that," Wendy sang, grinning from ear-to-ear. "But the whole Griffin thing started when he walked into the toy store-slash-pet store that I work at. From then, he was just trying to pick me up like it was nobody's bid-niz! Now, there's no doubting that Griffin is sweet, and—" She sighed dreamily. "—Unbelievably cute." The brunette giggled incredibly loud. "But Gibby just—"

"Whoa, wait!" called Sam walking towards Wendy. "You and Gibson?"

"Yep!" the redhead said joyfully, nodding. "And I got a date with—"

"Oh wait, I don't actually care." It wasn't that the blonde was trying to be rude—she was just honest. And she didn't see anything offensive with her word choice or tone. Sam went back to her original position, which was next to Freddie, whose presence Carly only now seemed to notice.

"Come on," the younger Shay sibling laughed. "Let's go upstairs to talk. I'm sure Sam's not the only one who doesn't want to hear our girl talk."

"No!" Freddie scoffed, shaking his head. "Of _course_ I don't mind—yeah, I can't lie, thank you."

"Oh, Benson," sighed Wendy, waggling her head in mock disappointment. "I guess you can only be sweet 95% of the time, huh?"

"Yeah," murmured Sam. "The other 5% of the time he's just a dork that can't seem to speak English." Freddie glared at the web comedian. Some things just didn't change, and it seemed the sidekicks' treatment for one another was one of those things. "What?" Sam asked, shocked at the glare. "It's true! You speak Spanish like crazy now!" Then she paused, her eyes lowering in annoyance. "I bet you don't even notice when you do it."

"Falso," he grumbled.

Sam held out her palms, at the same time pointing to Freddie with the index finger of her right hand. "See?" The tech producer groaned in aggravation.

Wendy gave a chuckle, lowering her eyebrows but smiling all the while. "You two," she said, motioning from Sam to Freddie with her left hand, "are too cute." To this, both boy and girl rolled their eyes, staring back lamely.

"Come on, Wen," laughed Carly, tugging on the arm of Wendy's sweater as she took off up the stairs, stopping at the first landing to wait for her friend. "Before one of us gets a fork in our leg."

Giving a smirk as her last look to the two remaining members of the iCarly team, Wendy turned and skipped up the stairs after Carly. Once in the studio, the copper-haired girl started right in on her story as the brunette tinkered with Freddie's laptop. "Okay, so this is how Gibby asked me out. He walks into "Paws and Pull-Strings"—you know, the store I work at—and he says that he's looking for a hamster. So I say, "Okay, what kind of hamster?" He says, "Teddy bear." I look in the hamster section, and I'm like, "We don't have any teddy bears."" Wendy pauses to take a breath, beaming. "That's when I notice that he's in a _bear suit_. And I'm like, "Gibby, your mom lets you walk around in a bear suit?" And he goes, "Pull my string." And he's got this string sticking out of the back of the bear suit. So I pull it, expecting some joke about flatulence or something, but all of a sudden, the bear suit says—that's _right_, it _talks_—in Gibby's voice, "Wendy would you go out with me?" The redhead squealed. "Isn't that just adorable? I couldn't say no to that."

"It is," Carly said, smiling as she looked up from the keys. "I'm happy for you and Gibby, Wendy. You're gonna be great together." The brunette returned her eyes to the keyboard, typing carefully with only her two index fingers.

Wendy leaned on the tech cart, her elbow supporting her chin. "What about you, huh?" she asked. "I have a feeling Griffin was only hitting on me so that he could get over you. But I think he still likes you. So you gonna put aside your dislike over his "Pee Wee Baby" obsession and snag that boy again? He's a hot hunk of clean laundry, I'm telling you, Carly."

Carly looked up, cheery again. "All signs point to no, for now, Wendy." The brunette shrugged, turning her gaze back to the keyboard as she typed a bit more, a contraption buzzing to life somewhere around the room. "But hey, who knows what the future holds, right?"

The redhead looked around the room in question of what machine had just been activated. "Right," she called back, nodding. "So what are you working on over there?"

The web show host grinned mischievously. "This," she said as pressed a final key. Suddenly, the studio's TV screen that hung on the wall swung out to face the girls and displayed an image of the Shay's living room.

Wendy's mouth hung open. "You're _spying_ on them?" she asked incredulously. Laughing, she tacked on, "You're such a creeper!"

"Hey, Sam did it first!" Carly shrieked in defense of herself. But then, she smiled sweetly at the memory, her tone going soft again. "When Freddie was dating that horrible girl, Valerie."

It took a moment for Wendy to answer, but that silence that lingered was meaningful as Carly traced back to that time that now seemed so far off for her and her friends, and as Wendy visualized what that scene must've been like, having not have known Carly or her circle of friends at that point. "Even then, huh?" she finally asked.

The teenaged Shay cast a reminiscent smile. "Even then."

--

Sam watched Carly and Wendy race upstairs, suddenly desperately wishing that at least Carly had stayed behind. At the moment, the blonde felt uneasy. The events and revelations that took place in Dingo World all held with them a dream-like quality. What if that was all they were—happy, in-a-perfect-world scenarios? What if Freddie wanted to forget all about what had happened?

"So," he called, breaking through the noisy barrier of her thoughts. "Are we gonna talk about what happened?"

Sam was at a momentary loss for words as she was pulled from her ponderings. Her expression blank, and eyes barely noticeably wide, she questioned, "Huh?"

"You know," murmured Freddie, face shifting to the right of the room and then down to the floor coyly as he began to list off the possible items of discussion. "The near-kiss, the dancing, the me-making–you-crazy, the me admitting I feel the same way about—"

He was suddenly cut off. Sam shook her head as she interjected, "Yeah, that's not really something we should be talking about around other people."

The younger resident of 8-D cocked a curious brow at the web comedian. "Sam," he said, calling her attention.

"What?" Her attention had already been on him.

"There's nobody else here."

She paused as if contemplating his words but didn't actually look around to see them true for herself. A slight stretched silence lingered before she finally said, "That's right, isn't it?"

"Yeah." He nodded.

"Huh."

Once again the room was quiet—so quiet that the only thing heard was the ticking of the Shay's new cat clock that sang, "I can has cheezburger?" every hour. It continued idly—tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock—until, "…So?" he questioned, stepping closer to Sam. This stuff was rather important. If there was something that need be said, it should be said.

"What?" Sam asked again, sounding slightly louder and more impatient than before.

"Aren't we gonna talk?" Freddie spoke slowly, emphasizing each word and trying to convey the message's true importance.

Sam averted her gaze. "I—" She paused, shrugging, thumbs in the pockets of her Bermuda shorts. "—Don't really think there's anything to talk about." Shifting her stance so that she was now looking up at Freddie, unintentionally shyly through her eyelashes, she proposed, "Do you?"

Eyes sliding to the floor and lips pouted, he thought for only a second before shaking his head and answering, "Not a thing." Knowing that neither of them seemed to have any qualms about how things turned out in Dingo World was a big relief to both Sam and Freddie, so it was at this moment that they truly took in their proximity, and the fact that they were alone—the fact that they both wanted the same thing and that they were in a rare moment of perfect and content harmony, instead of the usual perfect and content disorder.

That's when they both found the way to explain what they felt for each other—the way to explain why it was that they both enjoyed fighting with each other, the way to explain why Freddie made Sam feel emotions she'd never felt before, and the way to explain why it was that solitarily Sam, as if apart from the world, had such an impact on the way Freddie lived his life. Their lips locked as they embraced in the act that had opened their eyes to their feelings for the first time in their friendship so many nights ago on that urban fire escape. That beam of clear light was refracted through yet another prism, and once again, the beautiful yet mysterious and strange rainbow of their emotions was revealed.

Odd noises were heard from across the hall and from the upper levels of the loft. From above came cheering and joyful laughter, from across the hall was an odd mesh of happy crowing and shocked shouting.

"Who do you think saw?" asked Sam quietly in her normal deep, dull voice.

Freddie kept his hands gently placed on Sam's cheeks, his pinkies and ring fingers resting just below her chin. Bouncing his head from side to side, his eyes soared heavenward as he pouted his lip, as if in deep thought, trying to come up with some sort of educated estimate. "Pretty much everyone."

Sam's gaze landed on a distant spot in the room as she huffed out through her nose, tickling Freddie's chin with the air she'd exhaled and causing a crooked smile to rise to his lips. "You think they're happy?"

Again, he pursed his lips. "More or less. Why?" he questioned with a shrug, causing her hands to bounce with his shoulders. "Do you suddenly care?"

Pausing, her eyes returned to his, and she pouted as she shook her head. "Not really," she answered, her voice nearly melodic with its blitheness.

Smiling crookedly once more, he dipped his head in for another kiss. And Sam closed her eyes as she reciprocated, their whole unexpected journey flashing behind her lids. Finally, things were right.

And so, the princess and the servant boy lived…more or less happily ever after. And for once, neither of the Shays stole the last word.

--

**AN: That's it, everyone! Oh, I'm sad now that it's over. I had a ball writing this—I really did. I also hope that everyone enjoyed reading this tale as much as I did writing it. Thank you all so very much for taking the time to read, review, and favorite this. It means the world to me. I've got a few possible multi-chapter stories that I will choose from to work on next (when I have the time—I'm incredibly busy lately. My apologies.) But the first thing that you'll probably see from me is a one-shot that I'm planning called, "iDream in Wishes." Special thanks go to Panda Hallows, luna moody, somerdaye, and pinkjelly. But, again, thank you ALL so much. I really couldn't have done it without you.**

**Oh! And P.S. The nickname that Sam gives Freddie at the beginning of Chapter 9, "Bensonmum," is actually from an old AWESOME film that you should all totally see. It's called, "Murder By Death," and it's a murder mystery comedy! Totally awesome and hilarious =3**

**-Fictions**


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